


25 Days of Darkwing Christmas

by RebellingStagnation



Series: Geronimo Series [4]
Category: Darkwing Duck (Cartoon), DuckTales
Genre: 25 Days of Fic-mas, Christmas, Family Feels, Friendship/Love, Gen, One Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-03 14:48:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 27,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8718034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RebellingStagnation/pseuds/RebellingStagnation
Summary: 25 Christmas themed One Shots featuring our favorite Darkwing Duck heroes, villains, and annoying neighbors. I'll post one One Shot a day from now until December 25th. These take place in between "Safe and Sound" and "I Bet My Life". See my profile for the order of all the Darkwing stories. Merry Christmas from me to you!





	1. At Christmas (Hanson)

**Author's Note:**

> This first set of four One Shots take place during the Christmas after "Safe and Sound". As always, these are dedicated to the lovely Amelia who keeps me inspired and who has so much love for these stories; Merry Christmas, darling!

Climbing out of the car, Drake tightened the scarf around his neck. Not like it would do much against the gently falling snow; he really should have worn a jacket, as Launchpad had suggested. 

But he wouldn’t admit it. _Especially_ not to Launchpad. Drake Mallard (AKA Darkwing Duck AKA The Masked Mallard AKA The Hero St. Canard Needs, Not The One It Deserves) would be taking that to his grave. Along with Grandma Lulu’s sugar cookie recipe. 

Reaching back into his still-warm car, Drake slung grocery bags over his shoulders and piled packages in his arms. Having no hands free, he nudged the car door closed with a foot. Precariously balancing his gifts, Drake slowly made his way across the driveway, praying there wasn’t any ice underfoot. He was about halfway to the front door when he realized his keys were somewhere in one of the grocery bags. 

Because _of course_ they were. 

Fumbling with his brightly wrapped boxes, he tried to swing the bags around, hoping the momentum would bring them forward enough for his freed hand to grab ahold and dig through. The new snow settled on top of his purchases and on his beak as Drake muttered a curse under his breath. His arm contorted in a shape that would impress any circus performer and his fingers stretched out to their fullest extent as the grocery bags swung around towards his front. His packages were perched between his arm and his chest as he tried not to lose his grip on them and he _reached_ ….

And missed.

Sighing, his breath leaving in a puff against the cold air, Drake weighed his options. 

He could set his presents down. But they’d need to be re-wrapped later with the snow soaking into the paper and bows. 

He could walk up to the front door and ring the doorbell. Wait for someone to answer. But that meant someone had to be _home_ and Drake wasn’t sure anyone was. 

He could go back to the car and put the presents back inside. Make two trips like a normal person. Not load up his arms to dangerous levels just to make one trip. But Drake always lived a _little_ dangerously. If he didn’t, he couldn’t call himself the Terror that Flaps in the Night. Couldn’t claim to be the car that took the last parking spot at the Christmas-decorated mall. Couldn’t dream of being Darkwing— 

The front door swung open and a voice said, “None of those are big enough for a hippopotamus.” 

Drake sighed, but didn’t have it in him to be frustrated at his daughter. Even if she had interrupted yet another _flawless_ heroic introduction.

He stopped struggling for the keys and brought his freed arm back around to support the gifts. Walking to the porch, he nodded his thanks to Gosalyn as he passed through the doorway.

Launchpad, who had been wrestling with their fresh pine tree in the living room, stopped his battle once he saw Drake. “Let me help ya with those, DW.” 

“Thanks, LP.” Drake handed the presents over with a sigh of relief, sliding the grocery bags to his now-available hands. “Nice to know _someone_ is embracing the Christmas spirit of good will to men instead of worrying that they won’t get….” He turned back to look at his daughter. “Did you say a hippopotamus?” 

Gosalyn shrugged. “I heard about it in a song. You know I’ll never get one for myself.” 

“And you know I’m never going to get you one, anyway,” Drake said, shaking his head. 

“Where would we keep a hippopotamus?” Launchpad asked, going back to his toppled Christmas tree now that Drake’s purchases sat on the floor beside the TV. Thank goodness for department store wrapping; Drake didn’t want to imagine the headache of smuggling all of those past Gosalyn. The extra expense was worth it. 

“In the garage. The song explains it all,” Gosalyn said, going over to Launchpad to help steady the pine. 

Drake shook his head, walking through to the kitchen. Sorting through the groceries, he put everything away before coming back to the living room where Launchpad and Gosalyn were _still_ talking about the hypothetical hippopotamus. Try saying _that_ five times fast. 

“He’d be a vegetarian,” Gosalyn said. “We wouldn’t have to _cook_ him anything.” 

Drake unwound the scarf from around his neck, dropping it onto the couch as he joined his family. 

Seeing Drake had come back, Launchpad grinned at him. “Whaddya think of the tree, DW?” 

Studying the towering pine, Drake said, “I think it’s big.” 

“Christmas trees should always be big,” Launchpad said.

Gosalyn nodded her agreement. “Besides, it’ll be good practice for my—” 

“Don’t you _dare_ say hippopotamus.” Drake eyed her and she scoffed in return.

“It was the only good one left at the lot,” Launchpad said, admiring the tree. “Their next shipment isn’t coming until the end of the week. Gos and I got there just in time to buy this one.” 

“I don’t know if the star will fit on top,” Drake said, circling around the full pine that was already filling the room with its fresh scent. 

“Oh, so what?” Gosalyn said, coming up to stand beside her father. She took his hand as she said, “Christmas is the time of year to go big or go home.” 

Drake smiled at his girl, sweeping her bangs from her eyes. “I’m not going to buy you a hippo, Gos.” 

Gosalyn rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on!”

Launchpad grinned. “I’m gonna get the lights.” 

“I’ll get the ornaments,” Drake offered. 

“I’ll stay here. Make sure the tree doesn’t fall….” 

“Oh, no,” Drake said, taking Gosalyn by the shoulders and steering her from the room. _And_ the unopened gifts. “You go find the stockings and other decorations.” 

“You’re no fun,” she groused, following Launchpad to the basement where their storage room was. 

“Someone has to save Christmas from your shenanigans,” Drake said.

Gosalyn just sighed dramatically as she walked down the stairs. 

Drake smiled and shook his head before descending into the basement. 

This was his favorite time of year. Everything just felt… right. Complete. Especially at home with his family. 

“You know,” Gosalyn’s voice floated up to him, “I think there’s enough room down here for…” 

“No hippo, Gosalyn,” Drake said.


	2. Adeste Fidelis (Bing Crosby)

DW might think that their tree was big — and maybe it was compared to Christmas trees past — but Launchpad had seen bigger. Mr. McD would get trees that _filled_ the main room at the Money Bin. And if you’d been to the Money Bin, you’d know how impressive that was. 

Before he’d moved to St. Canard, Launchpad used to fly Mr. McD wherever he wanted to find his preferred Christmas trees. The ones for his family were usually flown in from the Rocky Mountains, for example. His Money Bin tree came from Germany, and the McDuck Enterprises trees from Northern California.

And Launchpad would deliver each fresh tree to its final destination. He rarely stuck around long enough to watch the decorating process. Which was a shame because decorating is always the best part. 

But Launchpad had always been _so busy_ at Christmas, he didn't have time to decorate. Mr. McD traveled _everywhere_ for decorations, food, and gifts. He knew all there was to the Christmas holiday from where to get the best honey roasted ham to which country specialized in that one gift someone wanted.

He probably _would_ get Gos a hippopotamus. A real one straight from Africa.

Launchpad knew she was joking — mostly — but Mr. McD took Christmas very seriously. The most seriously Launchpad had ever seen. Everything was meticulously planned and perfectly executed. McDuck Christmas parties were all anyone could talk about this time of year.

Well.

In Duckburg.

Not here in St. Canard.

Christmas was simpler here. Shopping took place at the mall, not in Paris. Decorations were cheap plastic that came out of a box in the basement, not hand-blown glass imported straight from Italy. Trees came from a fenced lot in the middle of town, not flown in from around the world.

But where Christmas came from didn't matter.

Launchpad used to think it did.

That first Christmas in St. Canard, he had tried to copy what he’d experienced in Duckburg and had felt pretty down on himself for bringing home generic decorations and a wilting tree.

But then Gos had seen everything. And her little face had _lit up_ when she looked at the tree and she’d hugged Launchpad so tight he hadn’t been able to breathe.

“This is gonna be the best Christmas ever,” she’d said, grinning. She had still been small enough that she had to lean _all the way back_ to look up at him.

DW had come in the room and Gos had flown into his arms, saying, “Dad, Launchpad decorated the tree!”

DW had looked at it and grinned. “Looks great, LP.”

Launchpad had later learned — much to his dismay — that DW had struggled to put Christmas together that year. It was his first year as a parent, Taurus Bulba was still fresh in their minds, and they were settling into their new house.

Unwittingly (as always seemed to be the case with him), Launchpad had helped. A tree and basic decorations were things DW hadn’t been sure he could afford, and here Launchpad was bringing them home and feeling bad that they weren’t as Christmas-y as they should be.

But their little home, so much smaller than the smallest of Mr. McD’s businesses, shone with the secondhand generic Christmas decorations. And DW and Gos _loved_ them. 

You never really know what you want until it’s right in front of you.

And it was that first Christmas when the three of them were together looking at the dingy tree with the second-hand ornaments that Launchpad knew what he wanted. To spend all of his boring, small, generic Christmases with his family.

Because they were. And still are. 

_His_ family.

As he strung the tree with the same lights they’d had for years, Launchpad listened happily to DW and Gos banter. They unpacked the ornaments Launchpad had brought home all those years ago, carefully wrapped in bubble wrap and old newspaper.

Mr. McD’s Christmases were fun. Elegant and all-encompassing, you truly felt the splendor of Christmas with it splayed out before you.

But for Launchpad, Christmas was about used decorations, Santas in shopping malls, and classic carols on the radio.

“Look, look,” Gos said, passing her phone to DW, the screen alight with pictures of baby hippopotamuses. (Launchpad was sure it was hippopotami, but Gos was insistent.)

DW didn’t take the phone, instead setting more ornaments on the coffee table. “How many times do I have to say ‘no’?”

“As many times as you need to before you say ‘yes’.”

“I’m _not_ going to say yes.”

“Okay,” Gos said, suddenly all compliance.

DW stopped mid-way through unwrapping another ornament and caught Launchpad’s eye. He shrugged and DW looked back to Gos.

“I’m not,” he insisted.

Sure, Dad,” Gos turned off her phone and stuck it in her pocket before picking up another bundle of newspapers.

DW set the half-unwrapped ornament in his lap. “Gosalyn Mallard, you will _not_ convince me that I should buy you a hippo.”

“I know,” Gos said, tossing the now-empty newspaper back in the box as she set her ornament — a violet bulb the same hue as DW’s hero costume — on the coffee table.

“As long as I’m making myself clear,” DW said.

“You are,” Gos returned, standing. “Want some help, Launchpad?”

“Don’t bring Launchpad into this!”

But Launchpad handed a string of lights to Gos with a smile. She winked at him before walking in circles around the tree, weaving the lights through the branches.

_This_ was Christmas, and Launchpad looked forward to it every year. And he wouldn’t trade it for any McDuck Christmas party. 

 


	3. The First Noel (Carrie Underwood)

Winter wasn't actually too bad a season. All the green of spring and summer had died away, leaving behind bare trees while the whole city was covered in a blanket of ice. 

And if there weren't Christmas lights turning the pale snow dull blues and greens, it would be even better. 

Negaduck glanced around, searching for a fire escape. Once he was up high enough, he could grab the dying bulbs from that balcony and burn them with the other Christmas contraband he'd collected tonight. He wondered if the colored glass would explode in the flames. If he was lucky, it would. 

Locating a fire escape that led straight to the lights, Negaduck walked over and gripped the bottom of the ladder when familiar musical notes fell on his ears. 

Christmas music had been trickling down Main Street lazily all day. Old songs, the ones you grew up with. Negaduck was no stranger to Christmas music, but this song made him pause, fingers stilled on the icy steel. 

For him, music created the most vivid memories. It was supposed to be smell, but he never had followed the rules. 

And he remembered Christmas decorations torn down after a night at the bar. The tree ripped to shreds in a fit of rage. Any baked goods or seasonal foods tossed out in the snow just to show dominance. He didn’t have many memories of _her_ since she died when he was young, but _this_ _song_ … He saw her so _vividly_ in his mind’s eye, everything about her in striking detail even down to the perfume she wore that night as she’d tucked him into bed.

_His father staggered into the doorway, slurring, “Damn it, Ana, I told ya not to sing that damn song.”_

_“It’s Christmas Eve,” Ana explained, keeping her eyes on her son as she smoothed the blankets over his small chest. She had the same blue eyes her son did, though hers were softer._

_“Like that means anythin’,” Stellar burped. “Christmas ’s only for good boys.” He sneered down at his son. “Have_ you _been a good boy, Drakey?”_

_He knew better than to answer_ that _and huddled underneath his blankets._

_“Thought not,” Stellar said, laughing. “Come t’ bed,” he ordered his wife._

_“I’ll be there in a moment,” Ana said, pacifying her husband, her voice gentle against his sneering disdain. He took another moment to glare down at his son before he stumbled down the hall to his own room._

_Ana smiled at her boy, warm fingers tracing the features of his face. “Christmas isn’t about good or bad, Drakey,” she said softly. “It’s about love. Remember the song I taught you?”_

_He nodded._

_“_ That _is Christmas.” She kissed his cheek before leaving him to his dark cold bedroom._

Seeing the decrepit Christmas lights still staring down at him, Negaduck loosed a snarl and yanked the ladder down, the metal clattering against the pavement and he all but flew up the stairs with a new vicious energy. Decorate for Christmas would they? Not on his watch. He’d teach these no good citizens not to mess with Negaduck’s rule about no Christmas in the Negaverse. 

But the song was still playing, the clear notes echoing down the alley and reverberating in his thoughts, bringing his mother’s face to the forefront of his mind once more. 

He couldn’t —  _wouldn’t_  — remember everything about Ana with a flick of the radio switch. What sort of Lord of the Negaverse would he be if he was incapacitated by a _song_?

Reaching the lights, Negaduck stretched out a hand for them, his fingers wrapping around the strand… and _still_ that damn song flooded his mind with all the memories of Christmases spent huddled against the snow as Stellar ripped apart everything Ana loved. How she calmly took it all in stride, allowing him this display as she snuggled her son to her chest. 

Negaduck had often wondered why she’d let Stellar destroy Christmas so thoroughly, especially since she was so fond of it. But he’d always assumed it was because of _Stellar_. If you got in his way when he was angry, you didn’t live to see another day. 

But maybe… maybe Ana had been protecting her son. If Stellar was decimating Christmas, he wasn’t taunting Drakey. He was taking his energy out on ripping the tree to shreds, not his son. 

And Ana had told Negaduck what Christmas was really about.  _“Christmas isn’t about good or bad, Drakey. It’s about love.”_

Suddenly, Ana’s soft blue eyes morphed into glittering green. Her brown hair with flecks of grey transformed into a rich red. The face changed, a smirk on the beak with mischief dancing around her expression. 

That… that wasn’t Ana. That was someone else entirely. But _she_ loved Christmas, too. 

Jerking his hand back, Negaduck tucked it into his cape. 

What was _wrong_ with him? He had to take down the decorations. Had to show his citizens that he wouldn’t allow them to celebrate…. 

But he’d let them celebrate last year, hadn’t he? 

Distracted by her absence — and how had he been distracted by this girl _not_ being there? — Negaduck had accidentally allowed some preliminary decorations to stay up. A radio station sparked to life, Christmas classics and old carols once again playing down streets that used to display the splendor of the season. A few bakeries unlocked their doors at different hours every day, not keeping a regular schedule so as not to get caught by the Lord of the Negaverse.

Because irregular business hours were Negaduck’s weakness.

Please.

They were able to open for business every day because Negaduck _let_ them.

Because _she_ liked it.

Not his mother. She was gone.

_Gosalyn_. She was still here. 

_“Christmas isn’t about good or bad, Drakey. It’s about love.”_

Inhaling sharply, Negaduck spun around and descended the ladder. Landing back down on the frozen ground, he walked through the downtown area, tentatively decorated for the holiday. 

If a girl with red hair and big green eyes could bring Christmas back to the Negaverse, then maybe the holiday really was beyond the reach of good and evil.

There was still hesitation on Negaduck’s part, a lingering fear that someone would come along and rip everything apart…. But not by him. Not anymore. 

Christmas had never been about love for him. But there were still Christmases to come. 

And maybe one day he’d make his mother proud. 


	4. I Want A Hippopotamus For Christmas (Gayla Peevey)

“You… wait. … You want…?”

“A hippopotamus,” Gosalyn said, nodding. “It started as a joke, but now I’m really starting to want one.”

 Negaduck was looking at her like she’d lost her mind. “Haven’t you thought about—”

“Sure,” Gosalyn cut in, “the grocery bill would be high, but there’s no meal prep or cooking involved. Hippopotamuses are vegetarians, so I could throw it a cabbage or something.”

“Throw it a cabbage,” Negaduck muttered as the two of them turned down another street.

“Or _something_ ,” Gosalyn said, thinking the Negaverse looked even creepier in winter.

Snow covered all the city, falling into caved-in roofs and showing just how empty and destroyed everything truly was. The long-deserted cars that crowded the streets had been transformed into icicles and abandoned homes were an empty black against the white flurries. Negaduck didn’t study the landscape as much as Gosalyn did, but it was his home, after all. He was used to seeing it.

Still.

All snow and no Christmas made the Negaverse a dull place.

“Where would you keep this hippopotamus?” Negaduck asked, sending a raised eyebrow to Gosalyn.

She sighed dramatically as the two of them walked up to the Sugar and Spice and Everything Nice Bakery, fresh snow crunching underfoot. “I don’t understand why you all have so many questions when the song clearly spells everything out.”

Negaduck hesitated on the front stoop, key in one hand and door handle in the other. “There’s a song.” It wasn’t a question. More like one of those statements where someone repeats what you’ve just said so you can hear how stupid you sound.

She just sent him a scathing look. “ _Of course_ there’s a song. Did you think I thought of a hippopotamus for Christmas all by myself?”

Gosalyn never heard the answer to her question because Negaduck kicked open the door the next instant and was off checking the place for intruders. Shaking her head, she followed him into the bakery. She pulled out her phone, looking up the song in question while waiting for Negaduck to finish his paranoid investigation.

As he walked back to the main room, some of the tension gone from his shoulders, Gosalyn said, “The most annoying thing about the Negaverse is the no WiFi.”

“What the hell would I do with WiFi?”

She rolled her eyes. “Just listen.”

A full fifteen seconds passed before Negaduck looked at Gosalyn, an unreadable look on his face. “This is a _Christmas_ song?”

“Well, it’s not an Easter song,” Gosalyn said.

“Does this play back in your universe? On the radio?”

“And in supermarkets and malls and on TV,” Gosalyn said as she paused the song and stuffed her phone back in her pocket.

“I’ve never heard it before.”

“Wait until you hear about Dominick the Christmas Donkey.”

He studied her in the silence. “No way there’s a Christmas donkey.”

“He’s gonna be pissed to hear your a non-believer.”

Negaduck just shook his head as Gosalyn followed him to the back room.

“Have fun with Dominick and that hippopotamus,” Negaduck said as he climbed the ladder next to the massive cake-turned-portal. He popped the top off and peered into the pastry.

Gosalyn scoffed. “Dominick is in _Italy_. And Dad already said he wasn’t gonna get me a hippopotamus.”

Negaduck, pleased with whatever he saw — or didn’t see — in the portal, jumped back down beside Gosalyn. Giving a little nod to show his approval of her climbing the ladder — like she needed _that_ to return home — Negaduck stepped aside. She was halfway up when he asked his question.

“Why do you like those weird Christmas songs?”

Gosalyn stopped her progress and looked down at Negaduck. She shrugged. “They’re different. It’s the non-conventional stuff that can surprise you.”

She only got a sharp nod as her answer before she jumped back into her own universe.

 

-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-

 

Her father stayed true to form and didn’t get Gosalyn a hippopotamus for Christmas.

Not a real one, anyway, even though there was _tons_ of room in their garage.

Drake got her a small ceramic hippo. Launchpad offered her a trip to Africa, with him as her pilot, to see real hippos in the wild.

All in all, not too shabby a Christmas.

She was putting away her new gifts in her room, setting her small hippo on her dresser, when she saw it.

A stuffed hippopotamus on her bed.

Gosalyn didn’t keep a tidy room. “Organized chaos” was what she told her father it was. Take out the “organized” and it was a little closer to the truth. That said, the hippopotamus was new. That much was clear.

Walking over to her bed, she picked up the toy, reveling in the soft fur and how easily her fingers slipped over it. A letter was attached to its neck, secured by a small scarlet bow.

Opening the card, Gosalyn read: “Dominick the Christmas Donkey is lucky he’s in Italy. He’ll live to see another Christmas as long as he stays there.”

Gosalyn grinned down at the spiked scrawl, wondering how Negaduck had managed to sneak through town on Christmas Day without alerting her father. 

It wasn’t too shabby a Christmas at all.

Maybe next year she could joke about wanting a new computer. Or a flatscreen TV.


	5. Perfect Christmas Night (Trans-Siberian Orchestra)

_**A/N: These next four one-shots take place one year after the last four. About a year and a half after "Safe and Sound".** _

“Hey there, neighbor!”

Drake stumbled, the ladder propped against the gutter nearby falling into the freshly fallen snow with a dull thud. Scrambling to get his footing again, he ended up just dropping onto all fours and crawling more securely onto the roof of his house. 

Which he was now stranded on. Thanks to Herb Muddlefoot. 

Great. 

“Hi, Herb,” Drake ground out, turning to get a look at his neighbor. The rotund duck was still sporting a Hawaiian shirt and had even gone so far as to wear sandals today. Didn’t he understand winter? As a season? Or even as a vague concept? 

“That ladder’s not doin’ ya any favors there,” Herb said, coming over to Drake’s yard. 

Drake weighed his options. 

He could let his neighbor pick up the ladder and climb down, but then he’d have to admit to being saved by _Herb Muddlefoot_. 

Or he could stay up on the roof and die from hypothermia. 

How long did he have to wait for hypothermia to set in? 

“Ya know,” Herb prattled on as he picked up the ladder, “ya really shouldn’t be messin’ around with ladders out in this weather, Drakemeister. There could be black ice and the whole thing could slip right out from under ya.” 

“If only I could be so lucky,” Drake muttered. Hypothermia would take _way too long_. He might have to climb down the ladder after all. 

_But_ there could be a patch of that black ice Herb had mentioned and, while climbing back down the ladder, Drake could fall to his death. Which was much quicker than waiting around for hypothermia. And Herb would be convicted of homicide. It would be a Christmas miracle. 

“Whatcha doin’ up on your roof there, anyway?” Herb asked, propping the ladder back up against the gutter. He shook it to ensure it was sturdy and effectively stole Drake’s dream of death and homicide. 

Drake rolled his eyes. “Well, I certainly didn’t come up here for the _view_.” He brandished his string of Christmas lights as he eyed the ladder dubiously. 

“Oh, Christmas lights!” Herb said good-naturedly. “Binkie and I don’t mess with them anymore. We got one of them laser projectors from the mall. Did ya see it when it popped up on the TV?” 

“Must’ve missed it,” Drake groused. He crouched on the roof, continuing to staple the lights up. 

“I tell ya, it’s a hoot! Shoots different colors and shapes on yer house. We tried the snowflakes last night. It was quite the show.” 

“Mmh,” Drake said, continuing to put up the lights. He was nearly done, which was a shame. He wondered how much time he could sit on the roof with nothing to do before Herb noticed. Maybe hypothermia would set in by then.

“Yes, sir, the lasers really are somethin’. And I don’t have to climb up onto anymore roofs either. That’s as good for Binkie as it is for me. She worries somethin’ fierce whenever I have to climb up much of anythin’ these days. Well, you know about _that_ , don’t ya, Drake? We ain’t as young as we used to be!”

Why didn’t he decorate Darkwing Tower today? Why did he choose Avian Way? He could be winding garland along the railing of the spiral staircase, hanging wreaths in the library, stringing lights over the computer lab while cookies baked in the oven, making the whole Tower smell like warm vanilla. 

But, _no_. He had to be _here_ listening to _Herb Muddlefoot_ go on and on and _on_ about a laser whatever and how old he was getting. 

Merry Christmas to Drake. 

Having run out of lights to hang, Drake sighed heavily, knowing he’d have to come down now. Resigned, he half-crawled, half-scooted his way over to the ladder and slowly swung one leg over, Herb still going on about health this and health that and blah blah blah. 

Drake was half-way down the ladder when a high pitched, “Oh, Drake dear, do be careful!” echoed through the cold air. He started at the sudden noise and toppled backwards onto his snow-covered lawn. Hating the Muddlefoots with _every fiber of his being_ , Drake slowly got back up on his feet. 

Binkie was standing beside Herb by the time Drake had stood up. “I always tell Herb how dangerous ladders are and this just proves it.” 

“She’s always right!” Herb said. 

“Are you quite all right, Drake dear?” 

“Peachy,” Drake said, already feeling a dull throb in his lower back. 

“You should get a laser projector, Drakemeister.” 

“Oh, yes! So easy and safe. I’m so glad we saw it on that late night program.” 

“You wanna see it in action?” Herb asked. “Sun’s goin’ down….” 

“No, thank you,” Drake interrupted, walking to his front door. “I have to finish decorating inside.” 

“Anytime ya wanna see the lasers, you just come on over, buddy!” 

“Should you leave your ladder out all night Drake? That can’t be safe.” 

“Safer than this conversation,” Drake muttered. Opening his front door, Drake waved to the Muddlefoots before disappearing inside. He immediately went to the couch, stretching out to ease the muscles in his back. Closing his eyes, he massaged his temples, willing his sudden headache to go away. He probably would need to take some kind of painkiller tonight. As Herb has _so kindly_ reminded him, he wasn’t as young as he used to be. 

Some time later, the front door opened, Drake jerking awake at the noise. He blinked in the dull evening light, wondering when he’d fallen asleep. A light was turned on and he was able to see Launchpad and Gosalyn peeling off their hats and gloves in the entryway. 

“I think I saw that laser projector on TV,” Launchpad said, causing Drake to groan. 

“Did you see the Muddlefoots laser snowflakes, Dad?” Gosalyn asked, coming into the living room and shedding her coat. “They’re dancing to different Christmas songs.” 

Drake grimaced. “I didn’t have the pleasure.” 

Gosalyn sat on the coffee table, eyeing him. “I mean, they don’t look _that_ great,” she said after a moment. “Tacky, you know? Our house looks way better.” 

He looked at his daughter. “Even if climbing ladders is dangerous?” 

Gosalyn shrugged. “I’ve always liked danger.” 

Drake reached out and grabbed ahold of her hand. “I love you, Gos.” 

She just smiled in response. 

“The house look great, DW!” Launchpad said, also stepping into the living room. “I put the ladder away in the garage. I hope you were done with it.” 

Drake let his eyes linger on Gosalyn’s face for a moment longer before he glanced over at his sidekick. “Thanks, LP. Wanna pop some popcorn and watch a Christmas movie?” 

“ _The Grinch_!” Gosalyn cried, springing up from the table and heading to the kitchen. 

“You said we could watch _Rudolph_ next,” Launchpad said, following Gosalyn. 

Drake slowly got up, wincing at the dull pain still resting in his lower back and made his way to their movie collection. Grabbing _Home Alone_ , he popped it in the player. As soon as Launchpad and Gosalyn saw the main menu, they’d forget about their own movies. 

Besides, Drake needed some Christmas revenge right now. Maybe he could picture the wet bandits as Herb and Binkie. 

 

 


	6. It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas (Johnny Mathis)

Launchpad stood in line at the bookstore on Main Street, crowds of people swarming him on all sides as they pushed and shoved their way through to look at the new releases, the bargain prices, and the holiday deals. 

It seemed everyone around him had something to say. 

“I really just can’t believe how quickly these decorations went up. Can we celebrate Thanksgiving first?” 

Okay, well, it was Thanksgiving tomorrow. So, that didn’t count. Besides, other than cooking specific foods and eating until you hated yourself, Thanksgiving was pretty boring in Launchpad’s opinion. The Christmas decorations and carols on the radio brightened the holiday. Like the Thunderquack and the Ratcatcher; they were fine on their own, but they were really meant to be used _together_. 

“The store closer to my house has a lot more comics. We should just go there.” 

Launchpad glanced at the comics he had in his hands, still pleased that he’d found these at all. 

He’d been out Christmas shopping. He always did it early. DW waited until the last minute, which he cursed himself for every year. Gos did all of hers online, which Launchpad couldn’t seem to get behind. He preferred to walk up and down the streets, admiring store fronts and physically picking out each gift himself. It was as much about _how_ he found the gifts as it was about watching his family open them on Christmas morning. 

Or Christmas Eve if Gos got too excited (which was often). 

Or a few days _after_ Christmas because of Megavolt or Bushroot or any other villain who timed their raids on the actual holiday. 

But, traditionally, presents were opened on Christmas morning. Together. 

Christmas is all about tradition, after all. 

And family. 

And magic. 

And… well, he could go on and on.

_Anyway_ , he had been walking down Main Street when the ominous book cover in the window display caught his eye. The corpse-like hand gripping the edge of a headstone was very not Christmas at all but could be just right for Gosalyn. He walked into the store without wasting another moment. 

No one else seemed to notice how each table with a clearance sign also held a tiny tree, each one decorated for the book series or author that it was sitting next to. People didn’t pay any mind to the large bows secured to the front of the registers. And everyone was too busy to see the snowflakes that had been taped onto the windows facing the street. 

But Launchpad saw it all. 

Probably because he was so tall. He was usually able to see more than others just because he didn’t have to compete for a view.

With his favorite Christmas songs playing through the speakers overhead, he searched for the books he’d seen displayed in the window and found them with minimal trouble. 

Now, as he stood waiting in line to purchase them, he wondered what Gos would say when she saw them. She had an affinity for both zombies and comics, and Launchpad knew immediately that these were the perfect present for his girl.

Woman. 

_Young_ woman. 

Launchpad still had problems thinking of Gosalyn as anything but that little nine year old kid he and DW had come across. He could only imagine what DW was doing through, since he was actually her father.

“You have any plans for what you’re going to do with the kids for winter break? Doug and I can’t _wait_ for the new year when they’ll be back in school full time.”

“What do you mean you’re sold out?”

“I hate this song.”

“I’d like to speak to your manager.”

“This place is a mess. Does _anyone_ come around and organize these books?” 

“They should sell coffee here. I bet they’d make a fortune.” 

“Why are they decorated already? It’s not even December yet.”

A cashier waved at him, and Launchpad grinned at her as he walked over, depositing the books onto her counter. There was a weariness around her eyes as she started scanning his items, the Santa hat on her head contradicting her slow tired motions. 

“Did you find everything all right today?” she asked, her voice sounding just as exhausted as the rest of her looked.  

“I did, thanks.” He glanced around. “Do ya know who decorated this place?”

She glanced up at him, half-way through scanning all of his books. 

He shrugged. “Whenever ya see them, would ya let them know it’s nice?” 

Her cheeks colored as she placed Launchpad’s purchases into a bag. “My bosses thought it was too early to decorate, but since we had the holiday sales going on, I couldn’t resist.” 

Launchpad grinned as he handed over his card. “I like the wizard table the best.” 

“That’s my favorite book series,” she confessed, a smile on her face. She returned his card and handed over the full bag. “I might have been a little biased.” 

He accepted his Christmas gifts with another grin. “Well, have a happy Thanksgiving and a Merry Christmas.” 

“Merry Christmas and happy Thanksgiving to you, sir.” She waved for her next customer with her smile still in place. 

Launchpad nodded to some other angry customers as he stepped out onto Main Street, the bitter chill of winter no match for his heavy scarf and coat. He smiled at everyone he passed by, getting some odd stares but most people ignored him. But that was all right. Because downtown was all decorated with colored lights, red bows, gleaming ornaments, and green garland.

Which reminded him. 

The tree in the park was probably up and decorated by now. _And_ the sun was going down. 

Turning down a side street, Launchpad made his way over towards the park, thinking he just might be in time to see the tree light up against the dusk sky. 

Christmas truly was the most wonderful time of the year. 

 


	7. I'll Be Home For Christmas (Michael Bublé)

That song had never made any sense to him.

Okay, if he was being honest, it wasn’t the only Christmas song that didn’t make sense. He still had issues believing Dominick the donkey was a real song. And don’t get him started on “Yah Das Ist Ein Christmas Tree.”

Just….

Don’t.

But there was a lot about Christmas that Negaduck simply didn’t understand.

This “home for Christmas” song — or whatever the hell it was — took the cake, though. 

Because _of course_ he would be. Why would he go _anywhere else_ during this most hideous time of the year? Negaduck was _always_ home for Christmas. Traveling for the holidays wasn’t something he had a frame of reference for.

As a child, Negaduck had seen Christmas — such as it was — come to him. Stellar never went anywhere. Something to do with power or whatever. And Ana, being the lady of her own home, invited her close family and friends over to show off her new life. Which didn't amount to much emotionally, but monetarily she wanted for nothing. 

Christmas traveled _to_ them. The Mallards didn’t _go_ anywhere for holidays. Which, apparently, made all the difference. 

Having a whole song dedicated to that concept just seemed useless.

Especially after doing away with Christmas in the Negaverse. There was no traveling anywhere, holiday or no. If you wanted to get away, you better make sure it was far enough to where the Lord of the Negaverse couldn’t follow. And you really couldn’t go anywhere without Negaduck knowing about it. So, if you did end up traveling, it was with the knowledge that you were leading Negaduck to your location and why bother going to visit loved ones if all you’d do was show the Masked Menace where they lived?

Negaduck never actually _did_ anything to those people.

Well….

Okay, he _usually_ didn't do anything. The threat of Negaduck knowing where your loved ones lived was enough to discourage travel was his point.

But after spending over a year with Gosalyn as his partner, he heard her say something that made him stop to think about what she’d just told him. Honestly, that happened a lot because Gosalyn had no filter, but _these_ words. _This_ sentence. He’d heard it sung a hundred times, but it meant something else entirely when she said it.

“I’m going to be home for Christmas.”

And everything clicked.

Gosalyn was going home.

Would be with her family for the day. 

In other words: she would be celebrating Christmas _not_ with Negaduck.

Her favorite holiday and she wanted to spend it with her father.

Which... yeah, okay, fine. Darkwing was sentimental. He probably had activities planned. Traditions that he upheld with Gosalyn and Launchpad every year. There would be snow and presents under the tree and bleh. 

You know when people fall in love and then suddenly know what love songs are all about?

Negaduck wasn’t in love.

Definitely not with Christmas.

But Gosalyn was making him understand this holiday. The song he had always found so confusing.

Because it was Christmas Eve and Gosalyn was home. With Dorkwing and that stupid pilot.

Negaduck’s house had never felt so large around him. Never seemed to be this quiet. And yet, here he was. Here _it_ was.

“ _I’ll be home for Christmas_

_If only in my dreams._ ”

Negaduck was sure that was a line from that damn song. Or maybe it wasn’t and he’d made the whole thing up. 

It had been awhile, but he was sure that he could still dream.

And he was beginning to believe that home didn’t have to be a _place_. 

 


	8. Believe (Josh Groban)

Negaduck didn’t answer when she knocked on the front door and, for half a second, she thought she’d gotten it wrong. 

Gosalyn had never been in a position where she had to split her Christmas up before. It had always been a day for her and her family to celebrate together. 

But she didn’t have just her family now, did she? 

There was her dad and Launchpad. And then there was Negaduck. 

She knew she had to spend some of her Christmas with him. He needed her more than her father or Launchpad did. Especially this time of the year.

So Gosalyn _might_ have arranged the perfect way to split her time without making her father suspicious. 

Okay, maybe she _had_ gone over Negaduck’s head. And maybe he’d hate her and never trust her again. And maybe she’d timed everything wrong and wouldn’t be able to spend any of her Christmas with Negaduck because he _didn’t_ spend Christmas holed up in his house alone as she strongly suspected he would.

Christmas was totally worth the risk.

Opening the front door, Gosalyn walked into the hall, calling, “I swear to _everything_ Christmas, if you’re _not_ here after _all_ I did to visit….” 

She left her threat unfinished as the villain appeared on the second floor landing. His face was … blank she supposed, with his eyes wide and his beak hanging open. But the longer Gosalyn studied him, the more she realized his face wasn’t _blank_. He was experiencing so many emotions so quickly that none of them got the chance to show themselves. 

Figuring _someone_ had to be normal, just to get the ball rolling if nothing else, Gosalyn grinned up at him as she threw her arms up in the air. “Merry Christmas!” 

Negaduck blinked, shaking his head before saying, “What?”

“It’s a holiday. In December. People celebrate it by giving gifts.” Gosalyn pushed the front door closed, trying to keep the low temperatures outside. Not that it wasn’t _freezing_ in the house anyway. Judging by Negaduck’s coat and gloves (still in the traditional yellow and black color scheme), he didn’t have a working generator. 

“No, I…. Why are _you_ … _here_?” He stood still as a statue on the top of the staircase. 

“Did you not hear me when I said it was Christmas?” Gosalyn asked, digging her hands into her coat pockets, desperately trying to keep them warm. 

“What about Darkwing?” 

Gosalyn shook her head. “He’s distracted by Liquidator.” 

Negaduck’s expression darkened. “Liquidator’s gone rogue, has he? Let’s see if he’s so high-minded when he’s standing down the barrel of my bazooka….” 

“As _fun_ as that sounds,” Gosalyn interrupted, “I asked him to do it.” 

Negaduck froze again. “You _…_ _asked_ him?” he said. 

She shrugged. “It was more of a favor. He _hates_ Quackwerks, so it all worked out in the end.” 

The Christmas party for the unlucky souls who’d been volen-told to work at Quackwerks on Christmas had their day ruined by St. Canard’s smarmy watery villain freezing their festivities. 

It made sense, right? An embittered former businessman took out his aggression on his lessers? Gosalyn was pretty proud of herself.

There was always a bit of a lull in the afternoon on Christmas day anyway, that weird time after presents and before dinner. Darkwing and Launchpad had sprung into action once the call about Liquidator came in, eager to have the villain in jail by dinner.

And Gosalyn had slipped into the Negaverse.

Shivering, Gosalyn huddled against the cold. “Seriously, why doesn’t your heat work?” 

It was Negaduck’s turn to shrug. “It’s just me in here.” 

“What am I, chopped liver?” 

“ _You_ ,” Negaduck pointed a gloved finger at her, “are not supposed to be here.” 

Gosalyn scoffed. “Like anyone can tell me what to do.” 

“So I’ve noticed,” Negaduck said, sighing. He was starting to sound exasperated rather than lost, which was a good sign. 

Mounting the stairs, Gosalyn brought out a small wrapped gift from her pocket, making Negaduck stiffen. 

“Oh, calm down,” she said, holding it out. “It’s not going to bite.” 

Negaduck still eyed the package dubiously. Sighing, Gosalyn grabbed one of his gloved hands and pressed the gift into his palm. He stared down at it. 

“From the gun show you raided. One of the vendors was a day late and, so, you didn’t manage to grab anything from his stand. Thought it might be useful.” Gosalyn stuffed her hands into her coat again, returning them to the warmth. 

He glanced up at her, something like hesitation in his gaze. “Do I… open it now?” 

“If you want. But I totally get it if you want to open it on your own.” 

He nodded jerkily before saying, “Hold on.” With a swirl of his cape — because _of course_ Negaduck had a _cape_ on his winter coat — he disappeared into his bedroom. 

And, okay. Yeah. Sure, open the present in the bedroom and then come out to tell her what he thought of it. That wasn’t weird _at all_. 

But Negaduck wasn’t used to Christmas, she reminded herself. 

He appeared a moment later, though, with a wrapped package of his own.  

_No way_. 

“That gun show had more than guns. Didn’t _know_ that ‘till after. I was stuck with this,” Negaduck shook the shoddily wrapped gift, “but I guess you can get some use out of it.” He handed it over. 

This was so weird and awkward and Gosalyn loved it. 

Not caring about decorum because _Christmas_ and _present_ , Gosalyn ripped into the paper. Immediately recognizing the item, she triggered her new weapon, a surge of childlike joy fluttering in her chest. 

“A travel bow,” she said, testing the draw. It could fold up into a smaller shape to fit in a  suitcase or in her quiver, but now, in its real form, it was just as strong as her regular one.

“At a _gun show_ of all places,” Negaduck said, shaking his head. 

Gosalyn folded it back up. “I guess I can take it off your hands. But only because you don’t need it. ” 

His beak quirked upward slightly, but only for a moment. 

Gosalyn nodded to his own present, still gripped in his hand. “Now you.” 

“I thought I could open it on my own.” He sounded irritated, not hesitant. 

So Gosalyn pushed. 

“That was before you gave _me_ a gift. Now you have to open it here.” 

Negaduck rolled his eyes but he obeyed. He was slower to unwrap his, but not, Gosalyn suspected, because of all the tape she’d used to keep the paper together. She waited him out, tucking her new bow under one arm to return her icicle-like hands to her pockets. 

He scowled once the paper had fallen away. “You don’t trust my aim _at all_ , do you?” he groused. 

Gosalyn let the bad mood roll off her and calmly said, “There’s a night vision setting.” 

“My aim is still good at night.” 

“Not _that_ good,” Gosalyn said, nodding to the rifle scope. 

Negaduck glanced up at her. “Are you expecting a thank you?” 

She sighed heavily. “See if I ever steal anything for _you_ again.” 

He blanched. “You _stole_ this?” 

Gosalyn grinned. “No. But you thought I did. Just for a second.” 

Inhaling deeply, Negaduck muttered, “You have way too much spirit.” 

“And you hate that,” Gosalyn said, waving away his irritation. “Merry Christmas, Negaduck.” 

There was a moment of silence before he echoed, “Merry Christmas.” 

She nodded before shivering again. “Seriously. Get the heat working.” 

“That better be another joke.” 

Gosalyn walked down the stairs. “And fix your front door.” 

“You’re on fire,” Negaduck said through a sigh, following her down. 

“Not in here. I’m practically an icicle.” 

“An icicle wouldn’t sass me so much.” 

“You’d know,” Gosalyn said, yanking open the front door and glancing back at him. “You live with them.” 

Not giving him the chance to say anything else, Gosalyn stepped outside, dragging the door shut behind her. 

Tucking her gift more firmly under her arm, Gosalyn walked back down the street. 

She’d be just in time for Christmas dinner. 


	9. Jingle Bell Rock (Bobby Helms)

_**A/N: These next four take place one year after the last four. At this point, we are about two and a half years after "Safe and Sound".** _

Hearing about a legend doesn’t compare to seeing it in person. 

When everyone said that Scrooge McDuck put on the best Christmas parties, it wasn’t an exaggeration. Drake literally felt his jaw drop stepping into the ballroom of Hotel McDuck in Duckburg. 

Okay, all the trees lining the hotel glowing with the white sparkling lights _had_ been impressive. And sure, the garland bordering the valet parking drop off was cool, orbs of colorful light glistening amongst the greenery. 

But _this_. 

More garland — each inch of which had Christmas lights interwoven in their branches — was strung from the upper level of the balcony (because _of course_ this ballroom had a second level). At one end of the ballroom was a massive fireplace, chairs, cushions, and other furniture pieces one might use for sitting — Drake was already eyeing an armchair that looked as though he wouldn’t sit in it as much as _sink_ in — gathered around the roaring fire. A wreath that was larger than Drake’s car hung over the fireplace, the round ornaments reflecting the light of the party around it. 

Across from the fireplace on the other end of the room stood a gingerbread house so large Drake considered moving in. Rent would be too high, though, since it _would_ be Scrooge McDuck as a landlord. The proud baker and his assistants stood before their creation, answering questions of the guests as they came up. The smell of it was wafting around the party, Drake already feeling lightheaded from it just standing in the _doorway_ of the ballroom. 

Launchpad took the lead, guiding his family through the gathered guests and decorations as Drake continued to marvel at everything around him.

A grand staircase spilled from the second level down to the first, more of the illuminated garland cascading down the sweeping marble handrails. At the top of the staircase stood the tallest tree to ever have existed. And, yes, he _was_ counting _all_ of history ever. This tree surpassed all its brothers, flickering lanterns sitting amongst the branches and a gargantuan gold star perched precisely on the top. 

A group of carolers stood at the base of this history-making tree, all decked out for the holiday and serenading guests as they entered. Along the far end of the first floor, beyond the staircase, stretched a bar from one end of the room to the other. At least five bartenders were on duty, pouring and mixing drinks. A rotating door in the wall near the bar kept swinging open as waiters and waitresses carried out silver tray upon silver tray of food items. 

Tables and chairs were scattered around the space, but standing tables seemed to be more popular, and more numerous, each one sporting a large candle and garland centerpiece. A good portion of the floor was left open, Drake suspected, for dancing.

Drake caught Gosalyn’s eye as she also finished absorbing everything. 

“Wow,” was all she said but it was sufficient. Drake nodded, dodging a waiter who zipped by without spilling a single drop from the full champagne flutes on his tray. 

“Launchpad! Drake! Gosalyn!” Scrooge McDuck cried, coming over to them with a grin on his beak. “So glad you could make it up to Duckburg for this little get together!” 

Drake and Gosalyn exchanged a glance at Scrooge’s word choice of “little”. 

“Thanks for invitin’ us, Mr. McD,” Launchpad said, shaking his former/sometimes still employer by the hand. 

“Yes, thank you,” Drake put in, but Scrooge waved it away. 

“’Tis the least I can do. I trust yeh all settled into the mansion before coming down here?” 

On top of the VIP invitations to this “little” shindig, the Mallard family had been extended the offer to stay the weekend with Scrooge and his nephews in McDuck Mansion. Drake had been experiencing new levels of anxiety, wondering what gifts to get everyone. In the end, he tag-teamed with Gosalyn and Launchpad, three brains (even if one of them was _Launchpad’s_ ) better than one. 

“Yes, thank you,” Drake said, realizing too late that he’d already said _those exact words_ not two seconds ago.

Gosalyn, thank everything good in existence for her, swooped in with, “You throw one of these _every year_?”

“Aye,” Scrooge said, looking around the ballroom with some pride. 

“This one isn’t even the biggest,” Launchpad said. 

“’Tis good to keep things simple sometimes,” Scrooge said. Drake swallowed heavily as he glanced around. This was _simple_? 

Holding out his arm to Gosalyn, Scrooge continued, “Allow me to show ya everythin’ we have available tonight.” 

Gosalyn took the offered arm, giving Drake a reassuring pat on the shoulder and shooting Launchpad a smile before Scrooge whisked her away. 

Drake glanced at the bar. Sure, the evening was just getting started, but it wasn’t too early to start drinking, right? 

“The weather man said it was supposed to snow tonight. Think I’ll wander upstairs and watch it get started. Ya wanna come?” Launchpad asked. 

Drake kept looking around him, still unable to take it all in. “You go ahead, LP. I’ll join you later.” 

Launchpad smiled and nodded, climbing the grand staircase and nodding to the carolers as he passed. 

Drake walked over to the bar and grabbed one of the winter-themed cocktails the bartenders were endlessly refilling. Wandering around the ballroom, he saw for the first time the full splendor that Christmas could reach.


	10. Round And Round The Christmas Tree (Bing Crosby)

Launchpad was glad DW and Gos had agreed to come to Duckburg with him. Seeing how they reacted to Mr. McD’s Christmas reminded him of just how magical Scrooge McDuck could make the holiday. Launchpad had grown so used to it over the years that he sometimes took Mr. McD’s holiday extravaganzas for granted. 

At the party the evening before, Launchpad had been all too happy to sit on the sidelines and let his family enjoy the night. He’d spent a good part of his time relaxing in one of the small lounges on the second level, sitting by candlelight as he peered into the dark night, waiting for his promised snow. It had started about halfway into the evening, and he’d gotten somewhat mesmerized with watching the snowfall by Christmas light. 

By the time he returned to the first level, DW was being spun around the dance floor by society women, keeping pace with the big band Christmas music. Gos was watching him, every now and then turning down a young man who’d approached to ask her to dance. 

As Launchpad walked up to her, DW turned to him, desperation in his gaze. Launchpad just shrugged as he stood next to Gos. 

“Merry Christmas to me,” Gos said, smiling at him before continuing to watch her father. 

“I feel sorta bad for him,” Launchpad mentioned, wincing as DW’s partner enthusiastically spun him away then pulled him back into her grasp. 

“He’s one of the only available bachelors here,” Gos pointed out. “And when he brings up that he’s a single father, what _other_ reaction does he expect?”

Launchpad guessed she had a point. Still, poor DW. 

“You aren’t gonna dance?” Launchpad asked, turning to Gos.

She smiled. “I would only consider you or Dad as a partner. Dad’s… busy. And I’m betting you’d rather stay off the dance floor.” 

Far too many times had Launchpad been in DW’s place for these parties, being carried around the dance floor by _enthusiastic_ partners. Gos was right; he wanted to sit this one out if he could. She had been watching him and nodded at whatever she saw in his expression. 

For some reason, their conversation played again and again in Launchpad’s head well into the next day. 

DW, his head still pounding from the previous night, had kept an eye on the Christmas festivities at McDuck Mansion from afar. 

Except during the snowball fight. Something about “maintaining his reputation.” He and Gos had been on opposing teams, though, and she beat DW without much effort. Gos had always had a better mind for tactic and strategy. Launchpad and Mr. McD had refereed the game and kept score. 

Returning into the house, the victors and the losers alike were treated to hot chocolate and freshly baked cookies, courtesy of Mrs. Beakley. Mr. McD ushered everyone into one of the larger sitting rooms to open gifts while they waited for dinner. The Christmas tree was alight in multi-colored wonder, garland hanging around the room and a wreath on the door. Mr. McD handed out the presents and everyone took turns opening them. It was, technically, a week before the official holiday, but this was their celebration with one another, so tradition was bent enough to accommodate. 

It was after all the gifts were opened and everyone was sprawled comfortably around the room, talking with one another, that Gos’s words replayed in Launchpad’s head again. 

She’d said she’d only dance with him or DW. Not that she didn’t _want_ to dance. 

She was a clever one. Gos had made it _seem_ like she didn’t want to dance to make Launchpad feel more comfortable. 

Well, better late than never he always said. 

Excusing himself from the conversation he’d been having with DW and Mr. McD, Launchpad crossed the room to the massive sound system built into one wall. Sometimes the Boys would hook instruments up to it and play a few songs together. But Launchpad only turned on the radio, tuning it to a Christmas station. Finding one with more classic holiday carols, Launchpad walked over to Gos and offered his hand. 

“Whaddya say, Gos?” he asked. 

She smiled and took his hand without hesitation, letting him pull her to standing. As they assumed position, she said, “I thought you didn’t like to dance.” 

“It’s just family here,” Launchpad said, starting to step around the room. “And you’re the only partner I want.” 

Gos grinned as she let him lead her around the Christmas tree. 

“Me next, Launchpad!” called Webbie, smiling sweetly at him in her red Christmas dress. 

Launchpad hesitated for a moment, but Gos saved him again. 

“I’m sure Dad wants to dance,” she said. 

“What?!” DW squawked, but it was too late; Webbie was pulling him up and swinging him around the room. Gos buried her face in Launchpad’s shoulder to smother her laughter and Launchpad sent a sympathetic look to his friend whenever he caught his eye. 

 


	11. Blue Christmas (Elvis Presley)

_**A/N: There is some strong language in this chapter. But, it being Negaduck, it really was a matter of time.** _

There were rumors that Christmas was at its peak in Duckburg. Fantastical tales of extravagant parties and larger than life trees and other Christmas-y things that he really could not care less about. But the lure of wealth and fortune was enough to turn Negaduck's head. 

And, so, he went to Duckburg himself to see if all these rumors were true. 

He had no definitive plans yet. No desire to burgle anyone. No ideas of how best to break into Hotel McDuck and rob the unsuspecting guests blind.

Not _this_ year anyway.

But next year was another matter entirely. And if he happened to have an entire year between this Christmas and the next to study up on blueprints, and find out which security system McDuck used, and the general comings and goings of the hotel staff, well, that was just a bonus. 

Negaduck wasn't surprised to see the building teeming with staff and guests. He’d expected to see so many decorations that it looked like Christmas had thrown up all over hotel. 

He had _not_ expected to find Dipwing Dork, Launchpad, and Gosalyn amongst the gathered.

But, no. 

That couldn’t be right.

Gosalyn hadn’t said anything about spending her holiday here.

Not that they'd _talked_ about it. Negaduck, having no Christmas plans of his own, sure as hell didn’t want to hear what his goody-two-shoes double was up to. And Gosalyn, wisely, never brought up what she was doing with her family. So it’s not like Negaduck would have known about this. 

But still.

There she was, dressed in a green sweater, navigating the party effortlessly with Launchpad and her father. She smiled at strangers, sent smirks to McDuck's nephews, and glares towards McDuck's ward, a young girl that was dressed in all pink whom Negaduck hated on sight. 

Gosalyn belonged there. It was as clear as day.

The Negaverse didn’t have Christmas parties. There were barely any celebrations. But did Gosalyn like those Christmas extravaganzas? And just how long did she plan on staying here in Duckburg? Sure, Christmas was an entire week away, but was she staying here the whole time?

Not that Negaduck _cared_. One Christmas of a gift exchange did not mean it was going to happen every year after that.

What was it called? Doing something year after year for a holiday?

Oh, yeah. A tradition.

Negaduck didn’t have any of those. And he didn’t want any.

He slid back to the Negaverse, no longer planning an elaborate burglary or considering how easy it would be to steal all the jewelry he'd caught sight of in that room.

Instead, he wondered how soon he’d have to spend Christmas alone.

Again.

Because it was really only a matter of time now.

It had been stupid to get his hopes up. To think that maybe there was something to this "holidays were better when you spent them with others" bullshit he'd heard about.

But returning to his universe only solidified why he was better off alone: everything here was blue. The dark griseous buildings around him without any bright decorations, the slate colored snow that was more slush than powder on the ground, and the smalt sky lit only by the moon, not colorful lights.

Duckburg had been awash in bright reds, deep greens, rich golds, and shining silvers. And to top it all off, a fresh coat of snow had blanketed the city, turning everything into a winter wonderland.

For half a second, Negaduck considered changing the Negaverse's Christmas from blue to red, setting everything ablaze and illuminating the city in bright reds, oranges, and yellows.

But the urge left almost as soon as it came.

Because this, more than anything, proved that Negaduck wasn’t meant to celebrate Christmas with anyone. He couldn’t even get the holiday to be the right color.

Who, in their right mind, would trade Duckburg’s colorful Christmas for his own blue holiday?

 


	12. Happiest Christmas Tree (Nat King Cole)

“It looks awful.” 

“You’re gonna hurt its feelings!” Gosalyn said, turning to Negaduck. 

He shot her a dark look. “Trees don’t have _feelings_.” 

“ _Christmas_ trees do,” she insisted, turning back to the pine. 

Pulling out a long ribbon, Gosalyn smiled. This needed to go on last; the color wouldn’t work if it was intermingled with the brighter ones she was currently using. 

“I thought we already _had_ this discussion,” Negaduck growled, collapsing onto his still-broken couch. He shifted, pulling out Gosalyn’s coat from under him and tossed it onto the other end before he rubbed his eyes. 

Gosalyn hung a bulb on a branch. She cradled anther one in her hand, eyeing the tree for any bare spots. 

She’d been working on this tree for two days. The first day had mostly consisted of her getting it to Negaduck’s living room. He hadn’t helped her lug it across town at all; he’d been in a bad mood once she’d shown up, but refused to say _why_.

The second day she’d brought a bunch of decorations from her own Universe, knowing the Negaverse wouldn’t have what she was looking for. It had taken her about an hour just to buy the stuff; she had to be really picky with her color scheme and which ornaments would offend Negaduck the least. 

Then she’d arrived to Negaduck’s house, and he was _still_ cranky from the day before. 

Now she was nearly finished and none of Negaduck’s criticism was going to stop her. 

“No,” she said, finding an open area and hanging her ornament. “You and _Bushroot_ had this discussion. I was just an innocent bystander.” 

Negaduck snorted. “Innocent. Sure.” 

Gosalyn, having finished with the lights and bright colors, reached into her bag and pulled out a handful of bows. “I literally stood there. How is that _not_ innocent.” 

“You dragged one of his _trees with feelings_ into my home!”

“Okay, whether or not they were ‘rescued’ by Bushroot, _all_ Christmas trees have feelings. I thought we covered this,” Gosalyn said, securing one of the bows to a branch. Where had she put that chair—? Finding it, she dragged the piece of furniture over and climbed on it to tie more bows to the top branches. Not like Negaduck would have a stepladder like a _normal_ person. She had to lug around a chair with a duct taped leg. 

Negaduck growled in response to Gosalyn, leaping from the couch and stalking out of the room.

She watched him leave but said nothing, just continued to work on the tree. 

Yesterday, as Negaduck shouted abuse at Bushroot for bringing Christmas trees from the Prime Universe into the Negaverse, he’d been in the same dark mood. Gosalyn was used to Negaduck’s temper by now and could usually see beyond it. But he’d been _thunderous_ , taking it out on poor Bushroot who had only wanted to save trees from the lot in the middle of St. Canard. They weren’t even healthy trees. These were the sad-looking ones with broken branches and needles falling off that were destined for the chipper. 

After Bushroot had fled Negaduck in terror, Gosalyn had chosen the least-awful of the bunch and dragged it to Avian Way. The others Negaduck had left in the snow piled on top of one another. She’d expected to see them all go up in flames, but throwing around the trees must have tired Negaduck out because he left them whole. 

Or maybe Gosalyn’s, “He was just trying to give them a home,” had gotten through his thick skull. 

Probably the tired thing. 

Eyeing her tree, Gosalyn tied the biggest fanciest bow to the top where the star was usually perched. Nodding in satisfaction, Gosalyn jumped off the chair and grabbed her ribbon. She wove the material between the boughs and the ornaments. Round and round the tree until it was covered from the bottom to the top. 

Stepping back, Gosalyn studied her work to see if there were any adjustments needed. 

“That’s not what Scrooge McDuck’s trees look like,” Negaduck ground out, evidently having come back into the room. 

Gosalyn withheld the most obvious question ( _How do you know what Scrooge’s trees look like?_ ) and opted for, “Then it’s a good thing he doesn’t have to look at it.” 

Negaduck sneered. “And _you_ don’t care about the difference?” She glanced back to catch his eye. 

Somehow, Negaduck must have found out about her going to Duckburg for the weekend. She’d willingly have told him, but he was so shifty this time of year, and any plans she made without him sent him away in a frustrated huff. 

But that didn’t matter right now. 

Because Negaduck _had_ found out. 

And was wildly jealous. 

And probably afraid that she preferred Scrooge’s Christmas to his. 

Gosalyn rolled her eyes at him. “Seeing as I went to all this trouble to decorate this monstrosity, I’d say that’s a _no_.” 

Something glinted in Negaduck’s eyes and he held up a finger, pointing it at her. “Careful. Your tree might get offended.” 

Gosalyn knocked his hand away and said, “It’s _your_ tree, Negaduck. Or did you think I decorated a tree in red, yellow, and black for _me_?” 

He looked at the tree over her shoulder, his eyes seeming to _finally_ catch all the details Gosalyn had added to the sad little tree that was so nearly destroyed. The black bows secured on the end of the emerald branches, the midnight ribbon circling the tree only allowing the faintest glimpses of the scarlet and gold bulbs to peek through. The monstrous black bow on the top of the tree, offsetting the small orange string lights that winked through the other decorations every now and then. 

Negaduck sighed. “You expect me to keep that up until the damn holiday is done, don’t you?” 

Gosalyn nodded. “And you’ll put it up again next year.” 

He glared at her. “Feelings or no, I’m _not_ keeping that tree for a whole _year_.” 

“No,” she shook her head, “you throw the tree out later. _After_ Christmas. Then you’ll get another tree every year and decorate it just like this.” 

Negaduck eyed the tree once more, the irritation in his gaze vanishing. “Sounds exhausting.” 

Gosalyn shrugged as she stood next to him, admiring her work. “It’s worth it.” 


	13. Christmas Eve/Sarajevo 12-24 (Trans-Siberian Orchestra)

_**A/N: These next four take place a year after the previous four. We are now about three and a half years after "Safe and Sound".** _

 

“I am the Terror that Flaps in the Night! I am the last piece of gift wrapping tape you can’t get off! I am… Darkwiiiing Duck!” Flipping his cape in a dramatic gesture he was particularly proud of, Darkwing grabbed his gas gun as the blue smoke dissipated around him. 

“You always ruin my fun!” Quackerjack whined, crossing his arms in a pout. 

“Best give up, Quackster. We all know how this is going to end.” Darkwing came fully into the room, eyes peeled for any odd or out-of-place items in the toy shop. 

“That might have been true, but that was before I had _fighting nutcrackers_!” Quackerjack leered, grabbing a button from his pants pocket and pressing it. Immediately, the what appeared to be harmless nutcrackers sprang to life. Leaping off the shelves, they came right for Darkwing, their mouths snapping open and closed as their eyes glowed red. Darkwing, brave hero that he was, did what any other crime fighter would do. 

Yelped and climbed up onto the shelves around him, holding on for dear life. 

Quackerjack cackled as the nutcrackers snapped at Darkwing’s heels. “It’s PLAY time!” 

“Your nefarious nutcrackers don’t intimidate _me_ , Quackerjack!” Darkwing called. 

A nutcracker jumped a little _too_ high and bit his toe. Scrambling upwards with another yelp, Darkwing’s finger slipped and pulled the trigger of his gas gun. Aiming the barrel down, he managed to fire his contents of cheap tinsel down onto the nutcrackers. The decorations entangling in the toys, they collapsed onto the floor, still snapping away, but no longer jumping to get at him. 

“I, uh… meant to do that,” Darkwing said weakly, shaking off the remaining nutcracker from his foot. 

“You’re spoiling _all_ my holiday cheer!” Quackerjack bemoaned. 

Darkwing glanced down at his handiwork. “Au contraire, I don’t think it’s that bad.” Having seen no movement from the nutcrackers, Darkwing climbed back down from the shelves. “And now, Quackerjack, it’s time for this sleigh ride to—” Loosing a cry, Darkwing leapt right back onto the shelves as a toy train barreled towards him. 

Narrowly avoiding the locomotive, Darkwing glared at his adversary. “ _You_ …” he pointed at the cackling clown, “are definitely on the naughty list.” 

“And you know what the naughty kids get, don’t you?” Quackerjack asked, his tone too innocent to be posing a genuine question. He pulled out a handful of coal from his pocket. 

“Hoo boy,” Darkwing jumped back down as Quackerjack chucked lumps of coal at him with one hand and controlled the train with the remote he was gripping in the other. Darkwing flattened himself against the wall as the train zoomed past him again, Quackerjack guffawing as he watched Darkwing dodge the coal and the train simultaneously. 

“Enough of these reindeer games, Quackerjack,” Darkwing said, loading a canister into his gas gun and aiming it towards the ceiling. He dodged the train and crouched to avoid the coal then stood straight and fired. The canister exploded above the demented toymaker, white flakes of soap sprinkling down into the shop. The train slid on the suds, careening head-on into a shelf-full of teddy bears, the stuffed animals falling on top of the destroyed locomotive and effectively smothering it. Quackerjack whined when he saw his toy destroyed and ran to retrieve it, but he slipped on the soap, too, and tumbled to the ground. 

Grabbing handcuffs from his cape, Darkwing headed over to the fallen clown. 

“I just wanted the children of St. Canard to play with _my_ toys this Christmas,” Quackerjack lamented, whimpering when Darkwing cuffed him. 

“Your toys explode when children play with them,” he pointed out. 

“Not the new models! These ones only bite.” 

Shaking his head, Darkwing hauled Quackerjack up, escorting him out of the toy store. 

“Maybe if people actually _played_ with my toys, I wouldn't have to sneak them in and replace a whole store’s inventory overnight!” the villain yelled as Darkwing dragged him over to the Thunderquack. Launchpad was there, waiting for him as planned, and helped Darkwing load the crazed toymaker into the back. 

“Nice goin’, DW!” Launchpad praised, shooting a grin down at him. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Darkwing said, flourishing his cape. “Even if it _is_ the holidays, LP, villainy doesn’t take a day off, so neither can the daring Darkwing—”

“Are you just _now_ finishing up?” came a voice. 

He sighed dramatically and glanced upward. “…Duck,” he finished meekly as his daughter, dressed in her Quiverwing Quack outfit, fired her zip-line arrow and swung down it to join him and Launchpad. “I think I wrapped up this case in great time!” 

“I finished with Megavolt fifteen minutes ago,” Gosalyn said, her boots landing on the asphalt with a thud. 

“ _I finished with Megavolt fifteen minutes ago_ ,” Darkwing mocked, rolling his eyes. “Well, Megavolt was closer to Darkwing Tower than Quackerjack was.” 

“Launchpad _flew_ you out here,” Gosalyn pointed out, crossing her arms. 

“Okay, Little Miss I’m-Better-At-Crime-Fighting-Than-You,” Darkwing said, his hands coming up to his hips. “ _Explain_ to me—”

“She is better at crime fighting than you,” cut in Quackerjack, his voice filtering down from the Thunderquack. 

Darkwing whirled to face the plane, glaring up at the villain, who shrugged awkwardly with his hands handcuffed behind him.

“You’re more fun,” Quackerjack said, nodding to Darkwing. “But’s she’s better.”

Darkwing ground his teeth. “Yes, _thank you_ , Quackerjack.”

Gosalyn and Launchpad exchanged a wary glance. 

“But answer me this,” Darkwing continued, “if she’s so _good_ , then why doesn’t she have Megavolt in her custody?” 

“Oh, I let him go.” 

Darkwing spun to look at his daughter. “You _what_?!” 

“It’s _Christmas_ , Darkwing,” she said. As if that explained _everything_. 

“That’s sweet, Quiverwing,” Launchpad said, smiling at her. 

“No, no, no!” Darkwing snapped, waving his hands around. “They make us work on the holidays, so we put them behind bars for the holidays. It’s a fair trade!” 

“Megavolt was just stealing Christmas lights to take them home and ‘free’ them. What’s the danger there?” Gosalyn asked. 

“He could steal more!” 

“He promised he wouldn’t.” 

“And you _trust_ him?”

“Not with my life or anything,” she shrugged. “But with this? Yeah.” 

Darkwing scoffed and began pacing. 

“Maybe we should let Quackerjack go, DW. Christmas _is_ coming up….” 

“And I don’t want him on the streets!” Darkwing interrupted. 

Launchpad glanced to Gosalyn, who stepped up. “Everyone should celebrate Christmas,” she said. 

“Not villains like him!” 

Gosalyn reached out and took Darkwing’s hand, lowering her voice so Quackerjack couldn’t hear. “ _Especially_ villains like him. He was trying to share his toys with others again, right? And Megavolt thought Christmas lights would keep him company.” 

Darkwing sent a glare towards Quackerjack. 

Gosalyn squeezed his hand and added, “They’re weird, but they are sort of friends, right? If we let them _both_ go, maybe they’ll spend the the day together and Christmas is all about celebrating _together_.” 

He sighed and glanced at his daughter, her emerald eyes shining through her lavender mask. “This is like that hippopotamus all over again,” he said, his voice weary. 

Gosalyn grinned. “I ended up getting one anyway, didn’t I?” 

Darkwing studied her before sighing. 

He jumped up into the Thunderquack and eyed Quackerjack dubiously. “If I hear of any other toy-related hijinks before the new year, I’ll take you in, no matter what anyone else says.” 

Quackerjack sat up straight. “You mean it?” 

Darkwing unlocked the handcuffs. “Don’t forget my warning.” 

“Thank you.” Quackerjack smiled.

Darkwing shook his head. “Thank _her_.” 

Quackerjack’s joyful expression fell as his gaze traveled down to were Gosalyn and Launchpad stood. He glanced between Darkwing and Gosalyn for a moment before slowly climbing down from the Thunderquack. 

He stood before Gosalyn, head low, hands folded behind his back. “Th-thank you.” 

“You owe me,” Gosalyn said. “And don’t think Darkwing doesn’t mean what he says.” 

With a nod and a low growl, Quackerjack darted away, disappearing into the night. 

When the three of them were left alone, Gos glanced up at Darkwing, a smile on her beak. “Thanks, Dad.” 

Darkwing nodded and glanced at Launchpad. “Let’s get S.H.U.S.H. in here to clear out all the Quackerjack toys before the store opens tomorrow.” 

Launchpad nodded, pulling out his phone and dialing the number. 

Gos climbed into the Thunderquack and wrapped her arms around her father.  “Merry Christmas, Dad.” 

Darkwing pulled her tightly against his chest. “Merry Christmas, Gos.” They stayed huddled together for a moment before Darkwing said, “This counts as one of your presents.” 

Gosalyn looked up at him. “No it doesn’t.” 

Darkwing shrugged. 

Gosalyn glanced down the street. “He can’t have gone far. I could probably catch him again….” 

Darkwing smiled and kissed her forehead before climbing down to stand next to his sidekick and await the S.H.U.S.H. clean up crew. 

 


	14. Holly Jolly Christmas (Burl Ives)

“I did _not_ say you should bring all this to the Tower, I said to take it away _forever_!” DW snapped into the phone, rolling his eyes at Launchpad as he paced. 

DW always paced when he was anxious or frustrated. He said it got the blood pumping to his brain faster so he could solve the problem more quickly. Launchpad thought it was because DW didn’t know what else to do, and so paced to use up his extra energy. 

But Launchpad had been wrong before. 

Sure DW didn’t need him for this, Launchpad continued re-painting the Thunderquack. The snow storm had been brutal last night; he had just been grateful to have gotten his family home in one piece and, so, hadn’t noticed the left over sludge from the combination of snow, ice, and Bushroot’s fertilizer that had started eating away at the paint. Repainting was probably a little extreme, but after washing and waxing the plane, Launchpad thought he might as well. It had been a few months and getting the old girl up to snuff on all the weatherproofing she needed would only benefit her. 

Especially if they kept going out to battle all these villains in the snow. 

“No… I didn’t… just come get it out of here!” DW said, hanging up the phone. He removed his fedora and ran a hand through his feathers. “It’s not hard… Did you hear me say ‘forever’ last night, LP?”

“Sure, DW,” Launchpad said immediately. He knew better. He wasn’t going to argue that cell service had been spotty at Bushroot’s nursery. That anyone could mistake “forever” for “tower.” After more than ten years working and living with DW, Launchpad had learned it was easier to agree. 

“I don’t understand…” DW glanced down at his phone as it started to ring. He sighed before replacing his fedora on his head and answering, “J. Gander. Yes, sir. … I _did_ ask that it get taken to S.H.U.S.H.. Your team brought all of the mistletoe back to Darkwing Tower.” 

Launchpad had never seen so much mistletoe. Bushroot had been growing some — Launchpad suspected for the new botanist in town who was fascinated by Bushroot’s half-plant, half-duck lifestyle — and it had quickly gotten out of control, taking over his whole nursery. Darkwing, the leading expert on all members of the Fearsome Five, had been called in to investigate. Instead of fighting Bushroot, though, Darkwing, Launchpad, and Quiverwing had been forced to fight off the now sentient — and violent — mistletoe. Bushroot had thrown some chemicals together, making a spray to neutralize the attacking holiday plant, which had ended up working. 

Now there was just a lot of the stuff. S.H.U.S.H. had been interested in studying the plant, but the poor intern from last night had gotten confused, obviously starstruck with meeting DW _and_ getting shoddy cell service on top of it all. 

So, in addition to their tree, garland, wreath, and strands of colored lights, Darkwing Tower was playing host to so much mistletoe you could barely walk around the place. 

But with J. Gander Hooter involved, Launchpad was sure this mishap would be solved by dinner. 

One of the armchairs whirled, Gos arriving a moment later. She glanced around, eyeing the wintry plant with some unease. 

Seeing her father, she walked over to him. “I thought you told S.H.U.S.H. to take this stuff away forever.” 

DW glared at her before weaving his way through the mistletoe to his big crime fighting computer. Gos glanced at Launchpad and shrugged. He sent her a reassuring smile before returning to painting. Just a few more strokes and he’d be done. He could cook dinner and come back to weatherproof it after they’d all eaten. 

Sighing in satisfaction as he finished, Launchpad stood and collected his brushes. He could’ve used his spray paint gun, but he hadn’t wanted to annoy the finicky plants. And DW had been here all day, trying to fix the confusion; Launchpad wouldn’t spray paint with his family anywhere in the vicinity. 

Besides, it had been awhile since he’d hand painted the Thunderquack. He’d missed it. 

Taking his brushes to the sink in his workshop, he filled it with water and dumped them in, letting them all soak before he gave them each a thorough scrub. 

Grabbing a towel to wipe away the splotches of purple and orange from his fingers, Launchpad turned to make his way to the kitchen, but he froze when he saw Gos. 

She stood right in the middle of the mistletoe, looking up and around at it all. She must’ve sensed his gaze because she glanced over, smiling when she met his eyes. 

“It’s kind of pretty,” she said, motioning to their seasonal forest. “If there wasn’t a chance that it could come back to life, I’d convince Dad to keep it.” 

Launchpad smiled. Making his way over, he pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek. She grinned and Launchpad felt himself blushing at how brightly her eyes shone. 

He shrugged, casting his eyes down to his rag, now twisted in his hands. “It’s tradition,” he explained meekly. 

Gos reached out and plucked the rag from his hands. Reaching up, she wiped his cheek with the cloth before rocking onto her toes and kissing the now-clean spot in return. 

“Don’t want to break Christmas tradition,” she agreed, grinning as he caught her eye again. Grabbing a sprig of mistletoe, Gosalyn linked arms with Launchpad and, together, they picked their way through the maze of plants. 

When they reached the ladder that led up to the kitchen, Gos tucked the rag into Launchpad’s pocket as she said, “You get dinner started. I’ll be right there.” 

Launchpad nodded and began to climb, but his eyes followed Gos’s path as she wove through the Tower to DW. He’d sat on the floor at some point and his eyes were closed, one hand massaging his temple, the other still cradling the phone to his ear.

Gos crouched in front of DW and gently took the fedora off his head. He opened his eyes, looking tired as he observed her. But Gos just grinned and held her sprig of mistletoe above his head for a moment before she leaned forward and kissed his cheek. 

The difference was night and day. All the stress and irritation seemed to melt off DW’s face as he smiled, his eyes closing again, but in happiness this time. When he opened them, he looked five years younger, a smile on his beak. DW reached forward with his free hand and swept the hair from Gos’s eyes before planting a kiss of his own on her forehead. Gos turned to make her way to the kitchen, hanging up DW’s hat on the hatstand when she passed it. Launchpad winked at her when she looked up at him before he finished his ascent to the kitchen. 

Gos tossed her mistletoe onto the rest of the pile and began to help Launchpad cook dinner. As they prepared their meal, S.H.U.S.H. arrived and took all of the mistletoe away, DW barking to keep an eye on the Thunderquack, which had just been repainted.


	15. Run Rudolph Run (Chuck Berry)

Tuskernini sprinted down the street, glancing over his shoulder every few feet to see if he was being followed. 

Which, of course he was. But Negaduck wouldn’t be that _obvious_. 

The Lord of the Negaverse easily kept pace with the overdramatic walrus, using the rooftops to keep an eye on his prey. He liked to be up high when in pursuit. Not only did no one ever look up when they were running, but Negaduck liked the vantage point. And, really, the roofs of the Negaverse took a more direct path through the city than any of the streets.

Tuskernini took an abrupt turn down an alley that only had one way out. And that way out was blocked by an overturned semi truck. There were no windows in the surrounding buildings to climb through, no fire escapes to jump on.

Having personally destroyed this city, Negaduck knew which intersections had been redirected, which buildings had exploded into new shortcuts, and which streets had collapsed into dead ends. 

And Tuskernini had just dodged down the deadest dead end he could have possibly chosen.

Negaduck took his time climbing down from the rooftops. Kicking a ladder down from the fire escape where he was standing, he picked his way down, careful not to unstring the colorful Christmas lights from around the railing.

Having reached the snow-covered street, Negaduck shoved the ladder back up and strolled over to the entrance of the alley. In the dying light, Tuskernini would probably only see Negaduck’s outline, backlit by the Christmas lights on the fire escape behind him. He grinned at how eerie the image was, already picturing the look of horror that the walrus would soon wear. 

Negaduck traded his smile for a snarl as his prey came into view. Tuskernini’s face drained of color, his mouth dropping open as his eyes flew wide. 

It truly was the most magical time of the year. 

“What,” Negaduck sneered, his voice low, “did I tell you about having guns?” 

Tuskernini swallowed. “I-It’s not a _real_ gun.” 

Negaduck tilted his head forward, his fedora flopping down and, he was sure, painting a fearsome picture. Tuskernini swayed on the spot, his knees shaking and his feet stumbling around in the snow to keep him upright. 

“It’s a prop gun for my film! You can ask my penguins, they’ll verify that it’s only for dramatic effect.” He tried to roll the “r” of “dramatic” but ended up failing and just spit on himself, which warmed Negaduck’s heart. 

Negaduck advanced on the walrus, Tuskernini finally losing the battle against gravity and collapsing onto his knees. Upon reaching his prey, Negaduck grabbed ahold of the lapel of Tuskernini’s jacket and yanked the coat open, satisfied to hear a loud rip and the clatter of buttons as they bounced off the surrounding buildings. Tuskernini winced as Negaduck reached down and pulled out the handgun from the holster strapped to Tuskernini’s chest. 

Stroking the metal, Negaduck purred, “Seeing as your penguins aren’t _here_ to tell me if this is a prop or not, then I’m sure you won’t mind if I look into it myself.” 

Tuskernini began to tremble. Negaduck took some pride in knowing it wasn’t from the cold. 

In a flash, Negaduck had the gun cocked and the barrel pressed into Tuskernini’s forehead. 

The walrus flinched, but Negaduck kept the gun where it was. 

“If this really is a prop, I’m sure it won’t cause _too much_ damage.” Negaduck placed a finger on the trigger. “You gonna stick to your story?” 

His whole body trembling, Tuskernini shut his eyes. Which was annoying because now he couldn’t see Negaduck intimidate him further. 

Some people take all the fun out of everything. 

Pushing the barrel more firmly against Tuskernini’s head, Negaduck repeated, “What did I tell you about having guns?” 

“I’m sorry!” Tuskernini sobbed, pressing his hands together in a plea. “I-I was just—” 

“I don’t want your _excuses_ ,” Negaduck ground out. “I need your word that you won’t carry one of these — prop or not — again.” 

“Yes. Yes! I promise!” 

Negaduck pulled the gun back and began inspecting it. “Was that so hard?” 

Tuskernini’s eyes flew open, rolling around wildly searching for the gun. Seeing Negaduck with it still in his grasp probably didn’t put him at ease, but a look of relief washed over his face all the same. 

“Th-thank you,” he stammered as he stood. 

Negaduck glared at him. “Get out of my sight.” 

Tuskernini nodded, stumbling past Negaduck, eager to get away. 

The Lord of the Negaverse returned to inspecting the gun. He had a hundred like it, but this one was beautifully balanced. It was probably a dream to shoot. 

Turning, Negaduck took aim and fired. 

Tuskernini collapsed onto the snow, crying out as he cradled his now bleeding hand to his chest. 

Yep. 

An absolute dream. 

Looking at the gun, the Christmas lights reflecting off the metal, Negaduck was struck by an idea. 

It was a small pistol, easy to carry, and smooth to shoot. Perfect for Gosalyn. 

He’d been telling her to get one since a bow and arrow could be too slow in a desperate situation. The damn girl was stubborn as hell, though, and stuck by her quiver. 

But it was Christmas. She couldn’t say no to a present. He even had boxes of ammunition for this type of handgun at his warehouse downtown. 

Which wasn’t too far from here. 

Heading back down the alley, Negaduck stepped over a still whimpering Tuskernini. 

“Oh, shut up,” Negaduck growled.


	16. Deck The Halls (Nat King Cole)

You had to be careful introducing a new idea to Negaduck. He was used to how things were and stubborn as hell. 

Their first Christmas together, Gosalyn had just tried to distract him. He wasn’t a fan of the holiday, so she tried to work around it and she’d been so successful that he’d gotten her a hippopotamus. 

Their second Christmas, she got him a gift. Just to see how he’d react and to bring him more into the holiday. And though he had griped and complained, he’d actually used the rifle scope throughout the year. So, there. 

Their third Christmas, Gosalyn had brought a tree, decorated to the villain’s oh-so-specific color scheme. Which Negaduck hadn’t _hated_. 

She didn’t think. If he hated something, you _knew_. He was very vocal about what he didn’t like. But if he _liked_ something, he didn’t say a thing. 

It was a good thing Gosalyn didn’t rely on anyone’s opinion to make decisions. 

This was going to be their fourth Christmas together. So far, he hadn’t rejected anything she’d introduced him to, but _this_ was pushing it. A Christmas tree was one thing — and she’d found the box of his Christmas tree decorations so, no he _hadn’t_ hated it because he hadn’t thrown any of them away — but this? His whole house? 

She exhaled before weaving the black ribbon around his banister. Satisfied with her work, she moved back into the living room to consolidate boxes and start decorating the tree. 

What made this worse — so _much_ worse — was that he wasn’t here to see any of it go up. Which she hadn’t planned, okay? He was usually here when she stopped by. Between Avian Way and his Tower, Gosalyn was usually able to find him pretty easily. 

But not today. She’d gone searching, but no such luck. And she had taken her time getting back to Avian Way, too, just in case she saw him lingering in a side street or something. She didn’t want to _spring_ Christmas on him, but she and her father had plans to go shopping for Launchpad tonight, so she couldn’t wait _forever_. And tomorrow morning, the three of them were heading to Duckburg for their — now annual — McDuck Christmas weekend. 

After the tantrum Negaduck and thrown last year when Gosalyn had gone to Duckburg, she didn’t want to just up and leave without some sort of promise to come back and celebrate Christmas with him. And decorating was the perfect solution. He wouldn’t dare take any of it down without her, so, if anything, she had to come back just to pack it all up again for next year. And that would be enough to get him through the weekend, knowing she’d return eventually.

That’s what she told herself again, firmly, when she heard the front door fly open with an almighty bang. 

Running into the front hall, Gosalyn called, “Please don’t freak out!” 

But it was too late for _that_. 

Negaduck stood in the doorway, not moving at all as his unblinking eyes absorbed the decorations Gosalyn had hung in the hall. Which were pretty minimal, but to someone like Negaduck who hadn’t bothered to even _clean_ his house in twenty some years, it was a _big_ difference. 

Gosalyn held her hands out in front of her — whether in surrender or to catch Negaduck if he keeled over, she didn’t know — as she slowly approached him. 

“I didn’t want to decorate without you, but I’m leaving for Duckburg tomorrow and I didn’t have time to wait for you to get home, so I just got started and oh, God, you hate it, don’t you?” It all came out in one breath, Gosalyn’s eyes never leaving Negaduck’s. 

After a moment of silence, Negaduck’s icy blue eyes found Gosalyn’s face. “Did you check the house for intruders before you started throwing Christmas up everywhere?” 

Sighing, Gosalyn dropped her hands to her sides. “Yeah. Yeah, I did.” Negaduck gave her a disbelieving look and she insisted, “I _did_. Not as thoroughly as you, maybe, but I checked.” 

Negaduck rolled his eyes before closing the front door, which was hanging at an angle from Negaduck’s mistreatment. 

“Do you hate the decorations?” Gosalyn said. 

Negaduck’s gaze moved over said decorations coming to a halt at the ribbon around the banister. “Are those _skulls_?” he asked. 

“Sort of. There’s this movie called _Nightmare Before Christmas_ that’s a hybrid between Halloween and Christmas. Lucky for you, it’s very popular and there are decorations for it everywhere.” 

Negaduck eyed her. “Long story short, it _is_ a skull.” 

“It’s Jack Skellington. But I guess he _is_ a skeleton, so….” She shrugged. “Yes.” 

Negaduck walked into the house fully, sighing when he saw the tree up and half-way decorated. “How far do these decorations go into the house?” he asked. 

“There’s some in every room—” 

“Even mine?” He looked slightly horrified at the prospect. 

“I just put a wreath on the door.” Gosalyn soothed. 

“Does Dipwing have a wreath on _his_ door?” 

Gosalyn raised an eyebrow and Negaduck explained, “It’s the same house, right? So, they’re decorated the same?” 

She scoffed. “No matter how happy Jack Skellington looks, if you think Dad would put him up around the house, you’re delusional.” 

“You’re giving me a lot of long-winded explanations today.” 

“These are _your_ decorations, Negaduck. Not Dad’s. Your houses look very different.” 

Negaduck nodded and walked into the living room fully, flopping down onto the couch. Gosalyn followed, resuming her tree decorating. 

“Duckburg’s tomorrow?” he asked, his tone trying for casual conversation, but there was tension coiled in his posture. 

Gosalyn pretended not to notice as she tied the bows onto the tree. “Just for the weekend.” 

“McDuck throwing another party?”

“He does every year.” 

He grunted but fell silent. Gosalyn finished decorating the tree in silence. 

As she stretched up to tie the large black bow to the top, Gosalyn heard Negaduck sigh heavily. “I’m going to have to put up all these decorations every year, aren’t I?” 

Gosalyn leaned back to make sure the bow was straight. “Being a mix of Halloween and Christmas, you could put them up in October if you want.” 

“This holiday just keeps getting more complicated,” he muttered. Standing and straightening his suit, he announced, “I’m gonna go check the house for intruders.” 

Gosalyn glanced down at him. “I _told_ you I already searched the place.”

“Not _thoroughly_ ,” he said. “Can’t trust anyone in the Negaverse.” 

“Well, I trust you, but fine. If it will make you feel better.” Gosalyn climbed down from her broken chair and picked up the box where the tree decorations had lived this past year, turning to walk down to the storage room. 

But Negaduck standing absolutely still caused her to freeze, too. It wasn’t the temperature this time. It and to be what she’d said. Which… what had she said to shock him into silence this time? 

That Negaduck could decorate his house from Halloween through Christmas? No. 

That she’d searched the place for intruders already? Definitely not. 

That she trusted him? … Oh. Yeah, probably that. She’d never vocalized it before, even though it’d been true for years. 

Rearranging her grip on the box, Gosalyn, determined to distract him, said, “You haven’t answered my question. You _do_ hate the decorations, don’t you?” 

Which snapped Negaduck out of whatever it was because he rolled his eyes. “They’re so much damn work.” 

“Still worth it,” Gosalyn said, walking around him to go down to the basement. 

She heard a sighed, “We’ll see,” before she even made it to the first step. 

 


	17. You're A Mean One, Mr. Grinch (Boris Karloff)

**_A/N: These next four take place, you guessed it, a year after the previous four. At this point, we are four and a half years after "Safe and Sound" and about a year and a half from "I Bet My Life"._ **

“Hold it _right there_ , Negaduck!” Darkwing cried, aiming his gas gun at his nemesis. 

The villain, having run out of rooftops to run across, visibly sighed before he turned to face Darkwing with a sneer. 

“Well, well, well,” Negaduck growled, his black cape billowing out behind him dramatically (Darkwing was _not_ jealous of how cool it looked. He _wasn’t_ ). “If it isn’t Frosty the snow-dork. You expect to fight me wearing _that_?” He motioned to Darkwing’s insulated purple parka and fur-lined lavender fedora. 

Darkwing scowled. “At least I can still feel all my fingers and toes. How frozen are you?” 

Negaduck wasn’t wearing any additional winter layers on top of his usual costume. Without any of St. Canard’s buildings to block the wind chill up here, Darkwing could already feel the cold seeping into his bones despite all his big talk to his enemy. 

“Not enough to stop me from doing _this_.” Negaduck dug through the bag of all his pilfered items from the museum gallery’s Christmas party and chucked something at Darkwing’s head. He managed to duck in time to avoid being hit by one of the centerpieces from the party. The candle and cranberries that had been nestled inside the glass vase spilled all over the roof as the vase shattered behind him. 

Darkwing turned to face Negaduck, a triumphant grin on his beak. “Ha!” 

But Negaduck hadn’t stopped throwing his stolen items and a wreath sailed through the air, managing to land on Darkwing’s beak. 

“Ha yourself!” Negaduck cried, unearthing some small decorative snowmen and chucking them towards the hero as he pulled out a grappling hook from his cape. 

As Darkwing dodged each snowman with surprised cries when some sailed by a little _too_ close for comfort, he wondered why all of these decorations had been nabbed by the Masked Menace in the first place. Surely, Negaduck had no use for wreaths or centerpieces or snowmen. The expensive jewelry from the wealthy party goers, sure, but what would Negaduck want with stealing Christmas decorations? 

Dodging a small ceramic reindeer, Darkwing spun to face his enemy again, asking, “Who are you, the Grinch?” He jumped, anticipating the continued barrage of filched decorations but nothing came. Glancing back at his evil double, Darkwing found Negaduck frozen in place, grappling hook in one hand and a coiled rope in the other as he silently observed the hero. 

“Why?” Negaduck demanded, dropping his grappling hook onto the rooftop. A feral grin spread across his beak, causing the feathers on the back of Darkwing’s neck to stand on end. “Because my heart is full of unwashed socks?” 

Before Darkwing could respond, another ceramic reindeer was thrown at his head. Dodging it, Darkwing continued to run and weave around the roof as Negaduck pelted more and more Christmas decorations at him. 

“Or is it because you don’t want to touch me with a thirty nine and a half foot pole?” Negaduck grabbed a handful of ornaments out of the bag, holding them in one hand as he used the other to throw them at Darkwing, his aim always perfect and making Darkwing _really_ work at not getting hit. A few times, it was a near thing. 

“No, it’s probably because I’m as charming as an eel,” Negaduck purred, tossing a blue bulb which Darkwing dodged. 

“Or because of the garlic in my soul, right?” Silver bulb. Darkwing crouched. 

“But probably because my heart’s,” gold bulb, “an,” red bulb, “empty,” green bulb, “hole!” Negaduck gave up throwing the ornaments individually and threw the rest of them all at once. 

Darkwing managed to duck behind an air vent shaft before the ornaments shattered all around him. 

Poking his head around his shelter, Darkwing said, “You’ve listened to that song before.” 

Negaduck stilled, some stockings now in hand. “Everyone’s heard that song,” he said a little _too_ quickly. 

Darkwing shook his head, carefully walking out to face Negaduck with his gas gun aimed at the villain. “No, you’ve _listened_ to it.” 

Negaduck gripped the stockings tight, the material bunching in his hands. 

“Negaduck… do you _like_ Christmas?” Darkwing asked, coming to a halt a few feet away from his evil double. 

“For the sake of my dignity, I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.” 

“But you know all the lyrics to the Grinch song.” 

“Did I stutter?” Negaduck demanded, bolting forward and stuffing one stocking on Darkwing’s gas gun and one on his beak. “Although,” Negaduck said, returning to his grappling hook and tossing it to a neighboring building, “if Christmas looks like this,” he motioned to Darkwing, “then maybe it’s worth looking into.” The grappling hook caught and Negaduck pulled the rope tight, reaching for his bag of stolen goods. 

Darkwing tugged the stockings off his beak and weapon. Pointing his gas gun towards Negaduck’s feet, he fired, a boomerang with a rope tied to one end shooting out. The boomerang sailed around Negaduck before returning to Darkwing, the rope entangling Negaduck’s legs and causing him to fall over. The bag crashed onto the rooftop, Negaduck too interested in keeping ahold of the rope tied to his grappling hook to notice. 

“For the record,” Darkwing said, catching the boomerang and walking over to the felled villain, “I called you the Grinch because you were stealing Christmas. But I don’t disagree with anything else you said.” 

“Oh, please,” Negaduck said, untangling the rope from around his legs and jumping up. “The Grinch _wishes_ he could be me.” 

Darkwing grabbed Negaduck’s bag of stolen goods, shouldering it to keep it from the Masked Menace. “You couldn’t handle the Grinch’s heart now that it’s grown three sizes.” 

Negaduck observed him for a moment, his eyes darting to the bag before he scoffed. “You’re the Christmas expert, Darkwing Loo Who. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll be off to Mount Crumpit.” 

Darkwing gawked at him. “You _do_ know the story!” 

“So do you.” Negaduck knocked the gas gun out of Darkwing’s hand before shoving him down. Falling backwards, Darkwing landed on the bag, wincing when he heard the objects inside shattering. He didn’t have time to get up, Negaduck hovering over him a second later, a foot on Darkwing’s chest and pushing him down. 

“Now that everything in that bag is garbage,” Negaduck intoned, sneering in his face, “I think Grinch Negaduck can take it.” Grabbing Darkwing by his parka, Negaduck tossed him away before gathering up the sack once more. 

“You know what happens to little Who's that wander up to Mount Crumpit, Dullwing?” Negaduck sneered. “Follow me and you’ll find out.” 

Negaduck’s black cape billowed behind him as he tightened the rope once more, preparing to swing away. 

“I _would_ take the seasick crocodile over _you_ , Negaduck!” Darkwing called, rolling onto his side and searching for his gas gun. 

Negaduck turned with a smirk. “You would probably _win_ if you fought him.” He was gone in the next instant, swinging to freedom with his broken Christmas decorations and expensive jewelry. 

Darkwing sighed before standing and collecting his gas gun. He’d report the robbery to S.H.U.S.H., but he knew Negaduck would be long gone by then. 

Shivering against the cold, he ducked inside the stairwell of the building, making his way down to the street where he would find the Ratcatcher parked a few blocks away. 

Grinch or no, Negaduck _was_ a mean one.


	18. Sleigh Ride (Ronettes)

He couldn’t admit that it had _officially_ been apart of his plan, but now that the sun had set and night had descended onto the city, Launchpad was glad for the happy accident. All of downtown St. Canard was decorated for Christmas, the snowfall from yesterday adding some magic to the sleigh ride that he and Gosalyn were currently on. 

She snuggled more fully under the blankets as she studied the city around her. “At least we know where we are now,” she offered with a smile.

Launchpad returned it, pulling on the reigns and having their horse slow from a gentle trot to a leisurely walk.

“Not that getting lost _wasn’t_ fun,” she put in, watching shop after shop pass them by, trees and garland and lights and wreaths and ornaments and holly lining storefronts and restaurants. “But there’s something about knowing where you are.”

Launchpad nodded, turning down another street and pulling into the far right lane so as not to impede traffic. “It’s knowing how to get home again.”

Gosalyn uncovered one of her arms from the blanket and wove it around Launchpad’s elbow. “Exactly.”

This was Launchpad’s favorite part of town during the holidays. This stretch with Starducks on one end and the library on the other with all the curiosity shops in between. Nothing beat these decorations, one style tumbling into the other. The classic library with its grand architecture and traditional approach to Christmas to Starducks’s modern architecture, and futuristic decorations. It always filled him with warmth, and having Gos here on his arm only increased it.

So, where the next words came from, he never knew. 

“Are you visitin’ the Negaverse?”

He felt her stiffen as she looked up at him. “Am I—?”

“Sorry,” he shook his head. “That came out… well, not _wrong_ because I _have_ been wondering. No one needs to visit a bakery _that much,_ even if it is Sugar and Spice and Everything Nice.”

“You’ve,” Gos cleared her throat. “You’ve seen me, then.”

“Thursday is buy one pastry get another one free. I try to visit every week.” 

“I’m… planning a cake for Dad's birthday…”  

“I saw you there last week, but their pastry chef has been out of town.” 

“I was paying for it.” 

“I don’t think you were.” 

Gosalyn sighed dramatically. “How do you even know about the Negaverse?”

“DW told me about it.”

“Did he show you where it was, because that’s not fair! He wouldn’t show _me_ where it was.”

“Gos,” Launchpad said gently, knowing she was getting off track to distract him.

She glanced at him again. “I’m not…” 

Launchpad nodded and studied the road in front of them. “You don’t have to tell me. Not if you don’t want to. I just… you know, I thought I’d ask.”  

A moment of silence passed before Gos let out a sigh. “Fine. Okay. … Negaduck is rebuilding his criminal empire. _Restructuring_ is a better word. He’s changing how he operates and how everyone else operates around him. He’s not always sure what to do or how to handle these new situations, so … I help. Sometimes. But he’s given me _complete_ access to his schedule.

“And… Well, I should probably explain that Negaduck is starting to schedule all villainy in our universe. He figures out who is doing what and where and I know all of it! So, I’ve been able to help Dad beat some villains and his record has never been better, and… And… And are you going to tell Dad?”

As Gos came to the end of her confession, Launchpad turned down another street bathed in the wonder of Christmas. He didn’t say anything at first, still absorbing everything Gos had told him.

Because it was a lot. 

He’d only known she was visiting the Negaverse, but not the why. Maybe he’d been better off not knowing. It was one thing to imagine what she might be doing there and another to _know_.

And working with _Negaduck_. That was unexpected. And a little disconcerting. Because Negaduck wasn’t just a villain. He was the most evil one of them all. He and DW had the most intense rivalry out of any of the villains they went up against. To hear that his Gos had helped this — what did DW call him? Oh, yeah, "Masked Menace" — and was _still_ working with him….

It was life changing.

“ _Please_ say something,” Gos said. Pulling her legs to her chest, she wrapped her arms around them. “I don’t think I could take another second of your eyebrows of disappointment.”

Launchpad glanced at her. “Eyebrows of disappointment?”

Gos waved his question away. “It’s this thing where your eyebrows make a line across your forehead and your eyes are sad in a hopeless kind of way. It’s eating me up from the inside out, so… Please _say something_.”

He inhaled to gather his thoughts. “Are you safe?”

She hadn’t been expecting that. She visibly jerked and looked over at him. But her answer still came fast and sure. “Yeah. Really safe, actually. Negaduck’s a version of Dad and you know how overprotective he is.” She laughed but it was weak. 

Launchpad didn’t mention that Negaduck was the _evil_ version of DW; Gos already knew that. But if she felt safe, Launchpad had to trust her.

“Will you eventually tell DW?” was his next question.

Gos was quiet for awhile, Launchpad turning down a deserted street that would eventually lead them back to the stables where they’d rented the horse drawn carriage for the night.

“I… I want to,” she eventually said. “But how do I _explain_ this to him? The longer I wait, the worse it gets.” She sighed. “But yes. I _do_ want to tell him. Eventually. I just don’t know _how_.”

Well, there was that. Even with Gos running around with DW’s most hated enemy, her morality and love for her father was still present. Which Launchpad hadn’t been questioning, but it was nice to hear all the same.

“Do you need any help?” This was his last question. But it was no less important than his others.

“With… telling Dad?” Gos glanced at him, her eyebrows drawn together. 

Launchpad shook his head. “With...  _anything_.”

Gos smiled and scooted closer to Launchpad, weaving her arm through his again. “Not right now. But I’ll let you know if that changes.”

Launchpad glanced down at her and smiled as they made their way back to the stable. 

This hadn’t been what he’d had in mind when he asked Gos if she wanted to go on a sleigh ride through downtown St. Canard with him, but he was glad for it all the same.

 


	19. Baby It's Cold Outside (Johnny Mercer)

Her breathing changed, wordlessly informing Negaduck that she was waking up. She stretched, her toes brushing the far armrest; no matter what he said about using the bed up in her room, she _still_ fell asleep on the stupid damn couch. 

This time it made sense. After decorating the tree, Gosalyn had sat on the couch to admire her work and simply hadn’t gotten back up. She’d gone from sitting to laying down to fully stretched out to asleep within the span of five minutes. 

Never let the art of Christmas tree decorating be underestimated. 

Negaduck continued to clean his rifle, polishing the barrel carefully as Gosalyn woke. When he heard her gasp and saw her jolt into a sitting position, he dumped the weapon into the armchair beside him, jumping to his feet and barreling over to her. Concerned she’d had another nightmare or was in the throughs of a panic attack, he was relieved to see she only appeared scattered rather than afraid. 

“What the fu—”  

“I have to go!” she exclaimed, pushing herself off the couch. Negaduck backed away, watching her scramble for her shoes. 

“Thanks for helping with the tree. Sorry I can’t stay.” 

“Dorkwing has a tree too,” Negaduck said, shrugging even though watching her shoulder on her coat was creating a dull pain in his chest. 

“We decorated that tree last week,” Gosalyn said, winding her scarf around her neck. Negaduck had raised an eyebrow when she’d first shown up peeling off all her layers, but it had been abnormally cold this winter. Gosalyn could be pushy, but Negaduck was grateful she’d told him to fix the heater in his house. Not that he’d ever say so. 

“So, you need to leave because…” 

“Because Dad’s expecting me! I hadn’t planned on falling asleep, but I didn’t sleep much in Duckburg this past weekend and I came straight here after.” 

Gosalyn had finished pulling on her gloves and her beanie and walked to the front door. Negaduck followed, though he didn’t know why. One mention of “dad” and he was struggling to not loose the growl that was choking him. 

“I’ll see you in a few days.” Gosalyn sent him a smile before yanking the door open. 

Immediately, snow flurries blew into the house, Gosalyn shielding her face from the onslaught of the blizzard outside. Negaduck shoved the door closed. 

“And you made fun of all my layers,” Gosalyn said, smirking in triumph. She moved to open the door again, but Negaduck stood resolutely in front of it. 

“Like hell you’re going anywhere in this weather.” 

“Oh, come on. It’s not _that_ bad.” She reached around him for the doorknob but he smacked her hand away. 

“ _Not that bad_ my ass. You won’t be able to make it down the street before you freeze to death.” 

“Negaduck—” 

“No. You’re staying until the storm lightens up.” 

“I _have_ to get home,” she insisted. 

Negaduck took a steadying breath. “And you will. After the snow stops.” 

“If we get snowed in?” she challenged. 

“Then I’ll get my tank and we’ll plow through it.” 

“Why not get that tank now?” Gosalyn put her hands on her hips. 

Negaduck raised an eyebrow. “You want to _drive_ in this?” 

“I can’t drive a tank.” 

He eyed her. “You want _me_ to drive in this?” 

Gosalyn studied him for a moment before sighing. “No. Look, I’m sure I can make it if I just walk fast.” 

“You don’t want me driving, but you’ll _walk_?” Negaduck rolled his eyes. 

“ _Very_ fast,” she said, a challenge underlying her tone. 

“You have to think before jumping in. Look at it from every angle _then_ make a decision….” 

“I’ve _made_ my decision.” 

“You never listen!” he growled, running a hand over his face. 

“I’ll see you—” she reached for the door again, but Negaduck grabbed her wrist. 

“Gosalyn Mallard, you will not set foot out this door—” 

“Dad’s probably worried!” she cried, her eyes desperate as they met his. “It’s not that I’m leaving you, it’s that I was supposed to meet him and I _know_ he’ll be combing the city for me by now. I mean, what would you do if it was _you_ in his place?” 

He didn’t have to think about it. He’d turn over the whole damn city if it meant finding her. He’d travel to any universe, go to hell and back, and anything in between. Not even Negaduck would wish that kind of sickening worry on his worst enemy. 

Gosalyn buried her face in her gloved hands. “I’m sorry.” She dropped her hands and met his gaze again. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t fair. I can give him some story tomorrow as to why I didn’t show. If you really want me to stay, I will.” 

He always wanted her to stay. But not if she didn’t want to. 

“I’ll get the tank.” 

Gosalyn blinked before she shook her head, unwinding her scarf from around her neck. “No. Really. I’ll stay.” 

“It’s down the street…”

“And it can stay there. Though, why you have a tank parked in a _neighborhood_ of all places—” 

“Gos.” The nickname had the desired effect, the girl freezing and eyeing him with surprise. “I’ll take you home.” 

She watched him for a few moments, her eyes studying his face for he didn’t know what. But she seemed pleased with whatever she saw because she eventually nodded. “Okay.” 

And who knew one word could gut him so completely? Yeah, sure, he’d offered to take her home or whatever, but hearing her agree to it was another thing. 

Darkwing was worried, though ( _“… what would you do if it was_ you _in his place?”_ ), and Gosalyn wanted to go home. 

He couldn’t deny her anything she wanted, no matter how he felt. 

Opening the front door, he motioned for Gosalyn to walk outside. She smiled and, as she walked by him, wound her scarf around his neck. And even though it was green — which was strictly against his color scheme — he did feel warmer for having it on. 

Lucky for them, many of Negaduck’s neighbors had up and left at some point in his reign. They either didn’t want to live near their Lord and Master or felt they weren’t worthy to be in such close proximity to him. Either way, he’d outfitted a few of the abandoned homes as small fortresses, storing some of his weapons in the rooms. And in one of the yards, his tank was fully loaded and ready to do battle with anyone who tried to get the drop on him in his own neighborhood. 

Upon reaching it within a few short minutes, the two of them climbed in out of the snow and into the freezing cold steel tank. Gosalyn hunkered down in her coat as Negaduck brought the tank to life, hoping the machinery would warm the place up a bit. He’d never been concerned about the temperature in his tank before; why would he? He had been the only one inside it. 

Driving through the snow wasn’t a problem, it was the ice. Tank or no, wheels don’t turn if the ground is frozen solid and Negaduck might have plowed through a few cars and trucks not on purpose as they half-slid, half-drove through the city. Negaduck wondered more than a few times if this had been such a good idea after all. 

But they made it to the bakery, unfortunately. Never had Negaduck hated the pastry shop so much as he did in this moment. The hatch opened as Gosalyn climbed out. He was slow to follow, eventually making his way into the store and following her into the back room. She was peering into the cake, the glow of the portal lighting her features. 

Glancing at Negaduck, she smiled. “Thanks for driving me here.” 

He waved it away. 

She watched him for a moment before swinging her feet into the cake’s mouth. “I’ll be back soon, yeah?” 

Negaduck nodded, but still didn’t say anything. Gosalyn nodded once before jumping into the cake. 

And that was it. 

She was gone. 

He couldn’t even blame anyone because he’d been the one who brought her here in the first place. 

About ten minutes passed while Negaduck stood in the bakery, waiting. Hoping. For what, he didn’t know. But he eventually sighed, releasing his dejection with his breath. 

Walking back out into the snow, he pulled his scarf around his neck more firmly, belatedly realizing that he was still wearing the damn thing. Not that it was overly girly. Gosalyn wasn’t feminine when it came to her clothes, preferring male or neutral articles for her wardrobe. And the scarf was no different, the lengthy knitted yarn easily winding around his neck with one end dangling down his front and the other tossed over his shoulder.

Negaduck climbed into his tank when he heard, “I thought you didn’t want me walking through this storm.” 

He turned, somewhat unbelieving, even after his eyes had fallen on Gosalyn, who stood outside of the Bakery, her arms crossed over her chest and a smile on her beak. 

When he didn’t say anything, Gosalyn walked over towards him. “I’m not saying you were _right_ , but I don't really want to walk through all of this snow and ice, so, if you don’t mind…” She climbed up the tank and nodded to the hatch, in which Negaduck was still standing. 

How was she even here right now? He wasn’t… He couldn’t… He’d seen her jump into the cake himself. Which meant she’d come back but then… what did that mean? 

Gosalyn rolled her eyes and said, “Can we please go back home?” 

It was the mention of “home” that did it; the place had always been exclusively _his_ , but something in him warmed at the thought of Gosalyn thinking of it as hers, too. He blinked at her and descended into the tank, stepping away from the ladder once he was inside to make room for Gosalyn. 

“What, Darkwing won’t miss you?” he asked, finally finding his voice. 

She closed the hatch. “He thinks I’m visiting a friend this weekend. It’s snowing in my universe, too, and he wanted me to stay where I was so I wouldn’t travel through the storm.” She shrugged as she sat down. “It’s easy to get what I want when Dad wants the same thing.” 

Negaduck fired up the tank again, glancing at her. “You _wanted_ to come back?” 

“I said I’d stay.” 

Well. 

Sighing, he sat in the driver’s seat and unwound the scarf from around his neck, handing it to her. She took it and he placed his hands on the steering wheel. 

Before he could start driving, though, Gosalyn wound the scarf back around his neck from behind, damn nearly strangling him in his shock. 

She just said, “It’s cold outside.”

Negaduck glanced back and saw her watching him, her head cocked to one side as if expecting him to push back. He just rolled his eyes before driving them back to Avian Way.


	20. Christmas (Baby Please Come Home) [Darlene Love]

It always took Gosalyn a moment to reorient herself when she woke up in the Negaverse. Not in a bad way; it’s like when you spend the night at a relative’s house. It’s the realization that, no, you’re not home, but you’re still somewhere safe and familiar. 

Except this was the first time she woke up and Negaduck wasn’t home. 

Which was weird more than anything. Gosalyn was more than capable of making herself breakfast (which she did), and getting read for the day (such as it was; she wasn’t _home_ home, so not everything was here in her closet, but there was enough to make her passable). 

But the whole “leaving the Negaverse to go back home” thing wasn’t something she wanted to do. Especially after Negaduck had made such a fuss last night. She hated going against his wishes.

Okay, that wasn’t _exactly_ true. She liked to push his buttons and surprise him and make him see things in a different light. 

But his trust was so fragile. She didn’t like to push _that_ too far, especially with something like this where she would just up and leave and he’d have no idea where she’d gone. 

Negaduck had experienced enough tragedy in his life to always assume the absolute worst in every given situation. As innocent as it was for Gosalyn to simply return home after spending the night, Negaduck would still jump to dark conclusions. 

So Gosalyn got comfortable. She hoped her father wasn’t expecting her home right away. Or that he wasn't texting her.

Still, it was pretty early in the morning. Gosalyn had a habit of sleeping in, usually not waking up until the late morning and neither did her father. Both of them being crime fighters by trade, their schedules were usually usually filled with late nights. Sometimes very late nights. 

But with her nap yesterday and a full night’s sleep last night, Gosalyn had woken earlier than usual. To an empty house. 

There was no need to worry yet; Negaduck was a busy Lord and Master of his Negaverse, he was probably just dealing with something and would be back in no time. Then Gosalyn could say her goodbyes and head back to her father and Launchpad. 

Although, now that Launchpad was in the know about her and Negaduck, he could probably help Gosalyn out with this whole “jumping back and forth between universes” thing. Not that she would ask; the fact that he wasn’t telling her father was more than she could hope to get from him. 

But Launchpad would back her stories and excuses when she spent the night in the Negaverse or went on a mission with Negaduck. She knew he would. He was Launchpad. He kept the peace and helped to calm her or her father down when things got too heated. 

She was going to _desperately_ need Launchpad’s help when the day came that she told her father about her and Negaduck. 

Where _was_ Negaduck, anyway? 

It and already been… What? An hour? 

Gosalyn checked her phone and felt her heart plummet. 

Two and a half hours. 

It wasn’t like Negaduck to leave her unsupervised in the Negaverse. For her own safety, not because he didn’t trust her. 

She didn’t think. 

Almost three hours on her own, though, was more than abnormal. It was starting to scare her. 

Anything could have happened. The Negaverse was the _Negaverse_ , after all. The most dangerous place Gosalyn had ever come across. And, yeah, Negaduck had created it and made it what it was, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t susceptible to all its dangers. 

Every villain Gosalyn and ever fought against — every villain _her father_ had ever fought against — called this place home. Each one with their own wants, needs, and desires. There are some that only wanted the easy stuff: money, fame, attention. It was the ones who wanted power that you had to watch out for. Because where better for a power struggle to play out than in a place with no police? 

And if they were power-hungry _and_ violent? 

There was a reason Negaduck was so adamant about checking his home for intruders whenever he returned. And no, Gosalyn might not know the specifics as to _why_ Negaduck was so paranoid, but she could guess. 

She was pretty good at that. You had to be where Negaduck was concerned. He didn’t fill in many details about his past life. 

But sometimes. 

Sometimes he slipped. 

Told her — without actually _telling_ her — that he’d been shot. Stabbed. Beaten within an inch of his life. When the guy could identify on sight how serious a bruise was, if a gunshot wound was dangerous, whether the blade had splintered off inside the body, or if the amount of blood lost was fatal, you knew he’d been through too much. 

And yet still he traveled alone. Went out into the world with only a gun at his side and faced down every one of his attackers. 

Until _that day_ came. When the odds were too great. The enemies too numerous. The bullets too big. The cuts too deep. 

Gosalyn had thought about _that day_ before. She was always fighting it, trying to push it out of her mind. 

But today. 

_That day_ came crashing down around her. Loud. Hard. Unforgiving. 

What if today was _that day_?

What if Negaduck had been overpowered? 

What if he wasn’t coming home?

The front door thundered open and Gosalyn had never been so grateful to be scared out of her mind by a sudden noise. 

Jumping up from the couch, Gosalyn darted to the front hall, sighing when she caught sight of the familiar yellow, black, and red. 

Negaduck glanced up as she entered, hesitation softening his gaze. “Thought you’d still be asleep.” Anything he’d planned to say after that was a mystery. 

Gosalyn ran up and threw her arms around him with a, “Oh, thank God!” 

Maybe it was how rigid Negaduck became when she touched him. Maybe it was the cold that still clung to his coat. 

Whatever it was had Gosalyn jumping away from Negaduck just as quickly as she’d run to him. 

“You don’t just _leave_ without any explanation,” she fumed, desperate to fill the space that had just pushed between them. “You leave a note or you text or you… something. _Anything_. You don’t _leave_. What was so important that you slunk out of here so early in the morning?” 

Negaduck, who hadn’t moved or blinked or _breathed_ in the last seconds when Gosalyn was ranting, suddenly jerked, his customary irritation back in place. “I don’t need to tell you anything! I am the Lord of this universe, and—” 

“And you can’t just up and leave without saying goodbye!” 

The fight immediately died from his gaze and Negaduck was left looking unbalanced for a moment. Then he rolled his eyes. “Am I gonna have to ask for your permission before I go _anywhere_?” 

Gosalyn blinked, the return of his normal annoyance bringing rational thought back with it. “I-I guess not.” 

“Damn inconvenient having to travel all the way to your universe just to let you know I’m walking down the damn street.” 

“You didn’t just _walk down the street_ today,” she countered. 

Negaduck shook his head. “Went to my weapons warehouse. Wanted to make sure no one got any _creative_ _ideas_ during the snowstorm.” 

“Did you _walk_ there?” she groused. 

He shook his head. “Roads are slippery as shit.” 

Gosalyn studied him for a moment before nodding. 

“Thought I’d get some gloves before I took you to the Bakery.” Negaduck held up his hands in surrender. “Now, I’m gonna go upstairs, but I’ll be _right back_ ….” 

“Ass,” Gosalyn snapped, swatting his hands down. 

Negaduck sent her a raised eyebrow before climbing the stairs. Gosalyn gathered her belongings, pulling on all her warm layers of clothing as she tried to shake off the uneasy feeling that sat in the pit of her stomach. 

“Leave you a note,” she heard Negaduck grumbling as he came back downstairs. “Where would I leave this magic note? Carved in wood?” 

“Smoke signals,” Gosalyn offered, opening the front door. 

Negaduck grinned. “Much more my style.” He made to exit, but then turned to face her. “Now, Gos, I’m going to to go into the tank. But you’ll be following _right_ behind—” 

“I hate you,” Gosalyn said around a smirk. 

But it hadn’t escaped her notice that he’d called her “Gos.” With it came a warmth that sent her unease away.


	21. Let It Snow (Dean Martin)

_**A/N: We're nearing the finish line! I hope you're all still enjoying these :) These next few one-shots take place the Christmas before "I Bet My Life".** _

The oven’s timer sounded, the high-pitched beeping reaching the far recesses of the house. Drake, who had been expecting it to go off any minute, was sitting at the kitchen table checking his S.H.U.S.H. email and got up to turn off the oven. Opening the door, he reached into the searing dry heat, his festive Christmas oven mitt protecting his hand, and pulled out his baking sheet filled with sugar cookies, the warm scent filling the kitchen immediately. 

He half expected Gosalyn and Launchpad to come running; he only made Grandma Lulu’s cookies around Christmas and they never lasted for more than a day. 

But neither of them showed up. 

His curiosity spiking, Drake set the cookie sheet on the stove and removed his oven mitt, leaving the kitchen to see if he could uncover the mystery behind the absent cookie snatchers. 

As it turned out, Gosalyn and Launchpad were in the living room, each with a video game controller in their hands and the TV screen flashing different colors onto their faces. Launchpad was calm as ever, but every now and then he’d narrow his eyes or tilt his head in concentration. Gosalyn, though, seemed thoroughly agitated. She hit the buttons with more force than necessary, frowned at the screen, and kept groaning at what was happening in the game.

Drake walked in as an explosion sounded and Gosalyn tossed her controller onto the coffee table before burying her face in her hands.

Launchpad glanced up at Drake and grinned. “Hi, DW. Those cookies sure smell good.”

“You can have some after they cool.” Drake glanced at his daughter. “You want one, Gos?”

“I don’t want anything ever again in my whole life,” she bemoaned, bringing up her head to wearily gaze at him.

“Game not going so well?” Drake guessed. She’d been replaying her favorite game series — something about ninjas that traveled through time or something — over the past weeks, reminding herself of the storyline so she’d be ready for the new expansion pack that had just been released. It was already wrapped and under the tree packaged in a shoe box with a sizable rock from the front yard alongside it. (Drake had gotten very good at present misdirection over the years.)

It was odd for Gosalyn to have problems with a game, though. Especially one she’d played before.

“Ask _him_ ,” she said, pointing to Launchpad.

The pilot shrugged when Drake turned his gaze to him. “I think it’s a lot of fun. I’m still tryin’ to remember which button does what, but I think I’m doin’ okay.”

“He beat the first game already,” Gosalyn explained, a fire in her eyes. “This is the second one and he’s passing _every single level_ on the first try.”

Drake glanced at Launchpad. “You said this was your first time playing the game.”

Launchpad nodded. “Beginner’s luck.”

“This is _so_ beyond that,” Gosalyn said. “He’s finding buildings and weapons I didn’t know existed.”

Launchpad’s cheeks colored as he glanced at his controller. “I keep mixin’ up my walk and my turn buttons. I’ve just been gettin’ lost a lot.”

“You know what?” Gosalyn said, getting that tone in her voice that told the world she wasn’t going down without a fight. “I’m sending us to the Revolutionary War era.” She grabbed her controller from the coffee table and accessed the main menu, easily navigating through the endless scrolls of text until the level she wanted was loading. “If you beat me on this one, I’m going to just give up.”

Launchpad glanced at Drake, who gave his friend a reassuring nod, before focusing on the screen.

Drake stayed for only a few moments, watching as Gosalyn expertly ran through the town and Launchpad sort of stumbled through, before he returned to the kitchen.

Moving the cookies onto the cooling rack, Drake knew Gosalyn wouldn’t really give up, even if she did end up losing. It was one of the things he loved about her; she always got right back up after a fight. Besides, there were three more games after the one they were working on. Gosalyn would have to be beaten in all of them before admitting defeat.

Thank goodness for the snowstorm that had kept them inside all day. She’d have the whole evening to try and beat Launchpad.

Drake went to the pantry to dig out his frostings, sprinkles, and small candies. With his family otherwise occupied, Drake had the time to fully decorate his Christmas cookies before they were devoured. Since they were usually gone before they even finished cooling, Drake found himself enjoying the decorating process, frosting and placing the candies just so as the snow continued to gently fall outside the kitchen window. 


	22. Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas (Frank Sinatra)

 

It was the day of the year that had so much anticipation around it and, when it finally arrived, it flew by so fast you wondered if it had even happened.

But it wasn’t quite over yet. Even if the evening had set in, blanketing the town in darkness so its lights could shine all the brighter.

Launchpad set the last plate in the dishwasher, closed the door, and started the cycle. He turned off the kitchen lights on his way out and smiled fondly upon entering the living room.

DW and Gos were both dead asleep on the couch. DW sat upright, leaning against the pillows with his head lolling backwards to rest on the top of the cushions. Gos lay across the whole couch, her head resting in DW’s lap with her fiery locks fanning out across his legs. 

After their dinner, Gos had cleared the table as DW stored the leftovers in the fridge. Launchpad had assured them both that he’d finish up and sent them away. 

Seems they hadn’t made it very far.

Seeing some stray wrapping paper and bows still strewn about the living room, Launchpad tiptoed in and began to collect the last of their gift exchange mess as quietly as he could.

He saw Gos stir out of the corner of his eye and glanced at her. She blinked blearily at him before smiling gently. Launchpad smiled back as she curled into sleep, burrowing her head more securely into DW’s leg. He, in turn, woke briefly. But he only glanced down at his daughter, skimming his fingers through her hair as he dropped his head back onto the cushions. They both inhaled then exhaled at the same time, falling into sleep simultaneously.

Launchpad’s smile spread into a grin as he continued his sweep of the living room, picking up the odd bit of tissue paper or stray ribbon. He glanced at the fireplace to ensure the flames were dying into embers before slowly making his way back across the room, turning out all the lights until only the Christmas tree was left.

But you can’t unplug a Christmas tree _on_ Christmas Day. He was sure that was against all the rules.

He glanced back into the room before he left, his smile firmly in place as he observed DW and Gos both still fast asleep.

This was one of his favorite Christmas traditions, to gaze at the tree after nightfall with the small colored bulbs the only light source in the room. Having his family be apart of the picture this year somehow made it more complete. 

He tried to memorize every detail. 

How DW's fingers were still entwined in Gos's hair. 

How she was curled to fit perfectly on the couch. 

How the Christmas tree lighting bathed them both in its soft color. 

How the house hummed and settled around them. 

How the lingering smell of ham still clung to the air. 

Launchpad tucked each one of those details into the deep recesses of his memory before he went to his room and bid another Christmas farewell.


	23. The Christmas Song (Nat King Cole)

He didn’t hate them. Not a one. And it was getting harder and harder to not show it.

Which wasn’t good for his image.

Gosalyn probably knew. Of course she did. She was wicked smart and had been the one responsible for it all of this years ago. Without her, his house would be completely empty, the walls and rooms bare, the front door hanging at an angle, and the chill from outside seeping through the walls easily without any heat to combat it.

But _with_ her.

The house was cozy warm, the brand new front door keeping the cold outside where it belonged. Each room was filled with something related to the Christmas holiday:

The black wreath on his bedroom door.

The small evergreen tree in her room that lived on her dresser.

The paper snowflakes she’d taped to the outside of her door.

The midnight ribbon that wrapped around his banister and cascaded all the way down the stair’s handrail, skulls with haughty expressions peeking out every few feet.

The small stuffed snowman who sat in the middle of the kitchen table wearing a scarlet fedora and a black cape next to a hippopotamus with a ribbon secured around its neck.

And the tree. Decorated the exact same every year with its red and gold ornaments, orange string lights, black bows and ribbons. Through the oh-so-Negaduck color scheme, an emerald branch would occasionally poke through, especially if it was a full tree. And so what if Negaduck had started insisting on the biggest greenest tree they could come across? Red and green were complimentary colors. There was a reason they were always together during the Christmas season; they looked good together.

But the tree wasn’t green so much anymore as it was brown. And as much as Negaduck loved dead things, the pine needles annoyed the living hell out of him and so the thing had to go. So he and Gosalyn dragged the carcass to the center of town.

That was the best tradition to come out of this whole Christmas season. Well, _one_ of the best. He and all his citizens piled dead Christmas trees in Town Square and he got to set them all aflame. It was the biggest fire of the year — if Negaduck didn’t have too many tantrums between January and November — and even though he and Gosalyn were the only ones who physically stood in the streets watching the huge bonfire, he was sure his citizens watched from afar. If anything, to make sure the fire didn’t turn into one of his full-out rampages.

Negaduck, a satisfaction he hadn’t felt in… hell, _ever_ sitting comfortably in his chest, zipped his new coat up and turned to look for Gosalyn. 

He found her just down the street, hard at work building a snowman. Or, a snow-duck, he realized as he walked over to her, catching sight of a beak. But it was even more specific than _that_ , wasn’t it, with an icy scowl on its face, its snow arms crossed, and a large powdery fedora atop its head.

Gosalyn saw Negaduck walking towards her and sent him a grin as she continued her work.

“I’m not that short,” he told her.

“Everything else is spot on. Give me _some_ artistic license.”

He was going to argue when he realized that he was standing in the very pose Gosalyn had fashioned out of his snow form. Arms crossed with a scowl in place wearing a yellow parka.

Why was she _always_ right?

“Are you going to finish your masterpiece or am I going to walk you home?” he growled. 

Gosalyn glanced up. “My _Prime_ home,” she clarified, putting the finishing touches on her menacing Nega-snow-duck. Wiping her hands on her jeans, she walked over to the real thing.

“Below zero temperatures and you’re not wearing gloves,” he griped, leading the way down the streets to the bakery.

She dug out said gloves from her coat pockets and pulled them on. “Like _any_ good snowman was built while the artist wore _gloves_.”

He just shook his head in response as they wandered down the streets with small string lights, potted Poinsettias, and thin strands of garland stretching over the crumbling buildings.

And Negaduck didn’t hate a single thing. Even if these decorations went against his color scheme and didn’t have skulls and were so traditionally Christmasy that he almost felt nauseous. Because this was how Christmas was celebrated in the Negaverse now.

He even kind of _liked_  that nothing matched. 

As he and Gosalyn rounded a corner leading to the bakery, Negaduck wondered if he would ever tell her that he didn’t think Christmas was half bad anymore.

Maybe this was one of those things that was just an unspoken truth between them. They had a lot of those.

Negaduck liking Christmas could just be another one of them.

Because Gosalyn _was_ often right. But she didn’t need to _know_ that.

 


	24. Where Are You Christmas? (Faith Hill)

_**A/N: This one-shot takes place the Christmas after "I Bet My Life." Merry Christmas Eve and Happy First Day of Hanukkah! *SPOILERS FOR "I BET MY LIFE"*** _

She knew. 

She’d always known. 

Sure, she might have questioned it from time to time, wondered what was going through his head. If he was just tolerating her. 

But, as so often as it was with Negaduck, his true feelings were left in the things unsaid. 

This had been reinforced when she’d unearthed the Christmas tree decorations box. She’d needed a moment, falling to the ground more than sitting once she’d opened it.

He’d put everything away _so_ carefully. He’d gotten bubble wrap and lined the boxes with the stuff in addition to wrapping each individual ornament. The bows had been placed carefully on the top to preserve their shape and the box was taped shut, stored away from the temperamental furnace. 

A lump formed in her throat that she found it harder and harder to swallow around. 

Because this proved it. Negaduck _had_ liked Christmas. As she’d taken down the hall decorations, he’d packed away the tree’s wintry accessories with such care and thought. He hadn’t wanted anything to happen to them. Because he liked them. 

As much as her instincts were practically screaming to close the box back up and leave the house all together, she couldn’t. If Negaduck came back between now and Christmas, he’d wonder why the decorations hadn’t been put up. And she wouldn’t for a moment let him jump to his own horrible conclusions that she had run out of time or hadn’t wanted to finish. Because both meant that something had been more important than him. 

There wasn’t anything _more_ important than him. Everything just had different levels of importance. If only she’d had the chance to _tell_ him that. 

She should’ve told him a lot of things, she realized as she trudged around the house, setting up all the decorations. 

She should’ve told him that Christmas was her favorite holiday. That it meant so much to her that he wanted to celebrate it every year. That she treasured their time together. That she was so grateful that he’d given her a home in the Negaverse. That she worried about him and wanted him safe and happy. That she had learned so much from him. That she hoped he was proud of her. That she loved him. 

And he wouldn’t have believed her, not for a second, but she would’ve been comforted by the fact that she’d told him. And it would’ve given him something to think about wherever he’d ended up. 

She missed him so much it hurt. 

She’d forgotten how much grief affected you physically. The gaping sense of loss, leaving you feeling incomplete yet with nothing to fill it. The drive to do something — anything — and the will to complete none of it. Like knowing you had to eat because food is important but when you go to look in the fridge, you want nothing because you’re not in the mood or it’s too much work or it won’t taste the same. 

It was just so _exhausting_. And it was that much harder to fall asleep and stay asleep. She kept thinking about Negaduck out there somewhere all on his own. And it was _Christmas_. The time of year when no one should be alone. Negaduck himself had even started to believe that. He’d began to anticipate Christmas, knowing he and Gosalyn would be spending it together. They had their own traditions. 

And here he was now, spending the holiday by himself. 

Again.

Suddenly, everything was _too much_. 

Gosalyn stumbled back from the tree, half-decorated and so small and sad but what did it _matter_? Who was going to enjoy this? Negaduck was _gone_ and he wasn’t coming back, not even during Christmas, the _one_ time of year Gosalyn had tried to teach him that he was never alone. 

But he was _now_. 

And Gosalyn, who had fought so hard to visit every year and made sure all the details were perfectly tailored to him and ensured he knew he was loved, couldn’t _do_ anything about it. 

Frustrated and downtrodden and _so much more_ , Gosalyn stormed out of the house, dragging the broken front door closed behind her. She curled in on herself as she slogged through the Negaverse, hugging her middle and ducking her head to avoid seeing all the meager decorations up around town.

She’d built this. She’d built this _with him_. How was she supposed to celebrate Christmas with him gone?

Negaduck had been able to spend, what, _six_  Christmases with her? When you’d planned to spend the _rest_ of your Christmases together, six was such weak number. 

Gosalyn didn’t feel the bitterness of the wind or how her fingers had gone numb until she was inside the bakery and out of the windchill. Negaduck would’ve been upset that she’d walked all the way over here without even putting her gloves on. 

Well, then he should come back from wherever he was and _tell_ her. 

Gosalyn stumbled to the back of the shop, gulping in shaky breaths to try and calm herself down. Negaduck had always told her to focus and be aware of her surroundings… well… _always_ , but especially when traveling to another universe. And she couldn’t disappoint him. Even when he had no way of _knowing_ about any of this. 

She choked back a sob, still trying to even out her breathing. It took time. More than she’d ever admit to. 

But, again, who would _know_? 

She did make it to St. Canard, though. To the gentle glow of Christmas lights. To the soft carols. To the shining colors. 

Which all seemed so trivial now. How could this Christmas be normal when _everything_ was different? 

Gosalyn schlepped home through the snow, wondering if Christmas would ever be the same again. She didn’t see how it could be. Not when so much had changed. Not when so much had been _lost_. 

When she arrived at Avian Way, she lingered on the drive, trying to compose herself. It took time, but not as much as in Sugar and Spice and Everything Nice. 

Inhaling deeply, Gosalyn walked inside. 

Warm vanilla hit her first. And central heating, already making her fingers tingle in sensation. Christmas carols crooned, and the decorations winked at her. 

Overwhelming sadness threatened to drown her, already pressing heavily on her chest, when a gentle kiss pressed to her cheek all but drove it away. Glancing to the side, she caught sight of Launchpad who was smiling softly at her. He motioned up and she found mistletoe hanging over the doorway. 

“Can’t break a Christmas tradition,” he said. 

Gosalyn smiled — her first real smile in weeks — and kissed Launchpad’s cheek. “No, we can’t.” 

Launchpad was always able to cheer her up. Even, if would seem, _now_. 

“DW’s just finished makin’ cookies,” Launchpad continued, ushering Gosalyn inside and closing the door. 

Gosalyn didn’t have the heart to tell Launchpad that she wasn’t feeling up to food, even if it _was_ her father’s cookies, so she simply wandered back to the kitchen. She briefly considered how she’d explain that to her dad — she’d never _not_ eaten his cookies — but that issue resolved itself. 

She had barely walked into the kitchen when Darkwing pulled her into a hug. At first, she stood stiffly in his arms, wondering why he was so suddenly affectionate. But she soon melted against him, sliding her arms around his waist and closing her eyes, the world _too heavy_ on her shoulders.

But this helped. More than she could have guessed. 

Rubbing circles on her back, Darkwing asked, “How’re you doing, Gos?” 

She was ready to tell him everything. How hopeless she felt. How much she wasn’t sleeping. How Christmas was so different and why couldn’t anyone else see that, and oh so much more. 

But, as she stood within her father’s embrace, she realized he already knew all of that. 

His concern for her was palpable. He was just standing in the silence, patiently waiting for her response, anticipating her need to purge all her thoughts and emotions. 

Even Launchpad had all but met her at the door with that mistletoe. Other than from Bushroot, where do you even _get_ mistletoe? And her father had been ready to comfort her as soon as he saw her. 

No, Christmas wasn’t the same. Nothing would be _the same_ again. 

But she wasn’t _alone_. 

And, right now, it was all she needed. 

She sighed as she burrowed into her father’s embrace. “Better now,” she responded. 

“Gos….” her father sounded hesitant. She opened her eyes, wanting to study his expression, but she caught sight of Launchpad on the way, who was still standing nearby with compassion clear on his face. 

He smiled gently. “You don’t have to be okay, Gos.” 

She detangled one of her arms and reached for him. He took ahold of her hand and she squeezed his. 

“I know,” she said. “And I’m not, but… this helps.” 

Her father’s arms tightened around her as Launchpad gripped her hand reassuringly. 

Gosalyn closed her eyes again as she settled int the warmth that surrounded her. 

Yes, everything was different. But there were some things that would never change. 

 


	25. Somewhere In My Memory (John Williams)

_**A/N: This one also takes place after "I Bet My Life." I hope you guys are having a great Christmas/Hanukkah/whatever holiday you're currently celebrating! Thanks for reading these :) I've enjoyed writing them. Merry Christmas, Amelia! *SPOILERS FOR "I BET MY LIFE*** _

He had almost fired up the power plant. And by “almost” he meant he’d walked by it a few times. 

But firing up the power plant meant firing up a radio station. Which meant finding the _exact_ music he wanted. Which meant a massive hunt through the whole city for a CD or a file or a whatever that had the songs on it. 

None of _that_ bothered him, though. There was nothing to _do_ here and a hunt like that would’ve given him a goal to work towards. 

No. 

What bothered him was that _Stellar_ would hear the music, too. 

And Negaduck didn’t care what Gosalyn said, not everyone deserved to celebrate Christmas. Most definitely _not_ the guy who was responsible for ripping his girl away from him and stranding him here in this godforsaken universe. 

Yeah, yeah, Negaduck had pushed the Oblivion button, sending them both here. But that was semantics, really. Besides, the whole reason Negaduck had pushed the button in the first place was because Stellar had threatened Gosalyn. 

So, there. 

It was _all_ Stellar’s fault. 

…

Still. 

Negaduck _had_ walked by the power plant at least three times. And that didn’t include the days leading up to that when he’d cased the place. So Stellar or not, Negaduck had come very close to firing up a few Christmas carols. 

Because he missed them. He missed pretty much _everything_ , but with the snow covering the ground and him knowing that Christmas was just around the corner, he wanted to celebrate _somehow_. 

Even if he was alone again. Yes, Christmas was about family and friends and being together and he had none of that this year. But Negaduck had experienced _six_ great Christmases. That was more than he’d expected to ever have. 

Six whole Christmases that he got to look back on and remember. 

Which was really helpful _here_ because Oblivion was about the loneliest place to exist. 

He hadn’t thought that the first time. Driven by his spite, Negaduck had built the portal that heralded his return back to St. Canard. His hatred for Darkwing Duck had been so potent it hung in the air, enough company to stave off loneliness. 

But _now_. He realized just how _empty_ this universe was. Which, sure, he’d _known_ that, but now he _felt_ it. 

Oblivion was a parallel universe to Darkwing’s. Every universe ran parallel to Darkwing’s, that’s why it was known as the Prime universe; it was the center of them all. 

Everything here, in Oblivion, was the exact same as it was there from how the streets were laid out, to the skyscrapers, to the parks, to the foliage, to the homes, to the schools, to the stores, etc.. Everything that was there was here.

But this place was desolate. No one lived here. The restaurants sat empty. Cars lined the streets or sat in driveways, eternally parked. Houses and the baseball field and the universities all empty. 

An _eery_ empty. 

Oblivion felt like what Negaduck had imagined an apocalyptic world would. 

A city filled with signs of life, of thousands of lives, but no one there. 

Every sound echoed. 

There were no manmade scents in the air. 

Machinery was always cold, nothing running but still fully capable. 

And there was this lingering hope that things could go back to normal. That life would find a way to continue as it once had. 

Which was why Negaduck hated Oblivion: you always felt like humanity was on the brink of returning when it as just you in this desolate city for the rest of time. 

Except _this_ time Negaduck had company. Good ol’ Stellar was always around to keep things _interesting_. And, yeah, it was a _huge_ city – especially for just two of them – but it gets awfully small awfully quickly when you never know if he’s waiting for you around the next corner. 

An eternal and intense game of cat and mouse. 

Negaduck avoided going inside any buildings as much as he could and instead stayed on top of them. Like trees in a rainforest, the skyscrapers of St. Canard offered shelter, protection, and a great vantage point for predators. 

He hadn’t had many run-ins with Stellar since coming here, but the few times he _had_ reiterated why he had to remain on guard at all times. There wasn’t much sleeping, but that’s a small thing when your safety is in jeopardy. 

And sometimes even safety can be compromised to get what you want. 

Because some things were more important. 

Like Christmas. 

And it was _so_ worth it. Gosalyn had been right. She always was. 

Negaduck secured a corner of the black sheet around the doorway. Satisfied that it wasn’t going anywhere, he went to his bag and dug out red and green candles along with a box of matches. Yeah, candles weren’t really his thing, but they were Christmas themed. And he had no other decorations here, so these would have to do. 

Lighting a match, Negaduck set the flame to the wicks until his little circle of candles were lit, casting shadows on the walls and the dark sheet taped around the doorway so no light would escape. 

It wasn’t much, holed up in an office custodial closet with some candles – hell, it was barely Christmasy at all – but it was _something_. 

Settling on the cold floor, Negaduck closed his eyes and relaxed against the wall, casting his mind back and recalling each detail of every Christmas spent with Gosalyn. 

That first year when he realized – through a song about a hippopotamus of all things – that not every Christmas is the same. Everyone celebrates differently and not one of them is wrong. His Christmases past didn’t need to be his Christmases present.

The second Christmas he had his first gift exchange. And he _had_ liked the rifle scope Gosalyn had gotten him. He’d ended up using it often, especially at night. And it was the year he fixed the furnace. 

Bushroot, more than Gosalyn, was responsible for the third Christmas milestone. A damn tree that had _feelings_ and was decorated to Negaduck specifically. He couldn’t have asked for a better tree. … If he’d ever actually _asked_ for one at all. 

His whole damn house got the decorating treatment the year after with wreaths and skulls and a long ribbon that matched his cape in color. But, mostly he remembered how Gosalyn had been reassuring him that he wasn’t alone. And he wouldn’t ever be.

The next Christmas _he_ had to reassure _her_ of the whole “you are not alone” thing. Okay, she might have done it first after she’d returned to the Negaverse to spend the night with him, telling him she would stay. That she’d _always_ stay. And Negaduck had _believed_ her. For the first time in his life, he _wasn’t_ alone anymore. And that meant he couldn’t leave _her_ alone. He had to think about her, not just about himself. 

Their last Christmas together hadn’t even been anything special. Just decorating, gifts, and burning the old Christmas trees. Neither of them had known – how could they? – that they wouldn’t have any more Christmases _after_ that. They’d been settling into normalcy. Which was why Negaduck had loved it so much. Yeah, he said _loved_. Because he did. His first _normal_ Christmas. As normal as he and Gosalyn could get, anyway. 

And all of that – all of his Christmas experiences and traditions – was thanks to one girl who’d just wanted to spend her favorite holiday with him. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve Gosalyn, but he was grateful. 

So _very_ grateful.

Because she had decided he was worth her time. Worth her _love_. 

And that’s what it was, wasn’t it? Love. They loved _each other_. 

Negaduck resurfaced from his memories, back in the tiny closet with his sad little candles. But no matter what his Christmases looked like, he knew Gos would be proud of him for celebrating anyway. 

“Merry Christmas, baby girl,” he said softly before blowing out the candles. 

He left everything behind, flinging open the door and bolting down the hallway. He flew up the stairs, bursting up onto the roof then walked the edge, eyes scanning for any sign of Stellar. Negaduck never stayed anywhere more than fifteen minutes. And he never went back to the same place twice. He had to stay ahead of Stellar somehow. And not being predictable was the first step. 

But finding a small space to remember all those warm Christmases memories every year, imagining his girl with her flame-red hair and green eyes…. 

Yeah. 

That was a Christmas tradition he could get behind.


End file.
